


Homework Verse: Remember the Time

by nyxocity



Series: Homework Verse [9]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Fingerfucking, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years later, Jared and Jensen both get invitations to Jared's high school reunion. Jensen is convinced to attend, and if that's not weird enough, Chad's EXCITED and has appointed himself as their date. So much has changed, but there's so much more that hasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Honey, I’m home,” Jared calls, grinning as he opens the door. Jensen makes a sort of grateful grunting noise from the living room, and Jared grins even harder, imagining Jensen knee-deep in research, his hair all ruffled up from where he’s been running his hands through it, papers scattered all around him, laptop running calculations over and over again. He sets his suitcase down and hangs his keys on the ring holder on the wall, pile of mail in his other hand.

Jared sifts through it, manila and white envelopes with their names printed on them, letting them fall against the table by the front door. He’ll gather them up when he’s done, take them to Jensen and let Jensen do his own sort and file with them. He stops when he gets to a tiny, square, cream-colored envelope with his name printed on it in scrolling script. It looks like an invitation. There’s one with Jensen’s name printed on it, too, and he… can’t imagine why there’d be anyone left in the world who knows them that would be sending them separate invitations to something. He puts Jensen’s invitation between his lips and turns over the one with his name on it, curious. He runs his finger under the edge, slides out the card.

Class of 2005 Ten Year Reunion.

He stops, staring blankly at the inscription. His mouth opens of its own accord, Jensen’s invitation falling and fluttering away towards the carpet. Ten years? Ten _years_? How the hell has it been _ten years_ since…?

Yeah. It’s been ten years. And he _knew_ that, on a base level, he really did. Of course it’s been ten years. It’s been two years since he graduated from eight years of college. He and Jensen celebrated their nine year anniversary ten months ago, and he’d barely blinked, then, downing another glass of champagne and kissing Jensen’s mouth. But this… this scrap of cream-colored paper in his hand is… unexpected for how hard it brings home how long it’s been.

Hands slide around his waist from behind, caressing his stomach muscles and sliding up to his chest, warm, comfortable weight molding against his spine from behind. Brief brush of lips against the back of his neck and he shivers, knees dropping lower, spine relaxing automatically back into the embrace, face turning to the side and inviting more.

“Get tired of researching?” he asks in a breathless whisper.

“You took too long,” Jensen replies, edge of gruffness to his voice as he rises up, mouth meeting Jared’s, warm and firm and then his teeth sink into Jared’s lower lip and tug. Jared feels sparks shoot all through him, breathing out hard.

“Missed me, huh?” Jared asks, and Jensen kisses him again.

“You know I did.” Jensen draws back, teasing smile creeping around the corners of his mouth. “Which is why I’m expecting you to show me something amazing that was worth making me wait.” 

Jensen feels so good, lean hard muscles pressed against him, chest to back, the soft weight of Jensen’s dick pressed up against his ass, those wicked lips painting words against his neck. Jared can hardly think, doesn’t know why he has to, when he’s finally home and Jensen’s all over him like this—except for the way Jensen’s hands tighten against him and the steely look in those green eyes from behind gold-rimmed glasses that expects a serious answer.

“Ten year high school reunion,” he offers weakly, lifting the piece of paper in his hand, hoping it will appease. Except for how he really doesn’t, because Jensen pressed up against him like this, looking at him like this is only making him think of all the ways Jensen might punish him for not having a good enough reason.

“Well,” Jensen says, slowly, mouth moving against Jared’s neck, and Jared falls deeper against his support. “ _That’s_ important. Everyone should have an excuse to stand around and look down at their fellow former peers and think how they’ve turned out so much better than them.”

“I love how you’re so comfortable now that you feel like you can just come out with these things without a preamble,” Jared remarks, unable to hold back a smile.

“I could give you the requisite speech about pointless, antiquated rituals,” Jensen breathes, teeth closing along the line of Jared’s neck, fingers trailing down to the crease of his thigh.

A delicious shudder races all through Jared, nerves thrilling, and he can feel Jensen, cock hardening into a hot thick line against him, lightest pressure of his hips pushing into Jared. 

“Think it would help?” Jared whispers, rolling his hips back into Jensen.

Jensen’s tongue glides along the edge of his ear and up, tracing the shape of the spiral inside, wet, slow heat. “Not a chance.”

Screw it. They can talk about the reunion later. They haven’t seen each other in four days. “You…” Jared struggles to say, cock hardening against his belly, those teasing fingers just riding along the edge, only ghosting enough to make his belly fill with heat and raw want. “Know me…” card falling from his fingers as he lets his head fall back against Jensen’s shoulder, making himself an invitation as he surrenders, “too well.”

“I know,” Jensen’s voice is low, gritty, almost a purr, thumb brushing the head of Jared’s cock, “everything… about you,” hot puff of air against Jared’s ear, other hand coming up to frame the hollow of his throat, thumb and forefinger tightening just a fraction, just enough to send Jared’s heart pounding. “How to touch you,” fingertip gliding up just under the crown of his cock, “tease you,” lips closing over the line of his pulse, teeth scraping, tongue swirling, “taste you,” hand sliding between his legs, “take you,” up and beside his balls, fingers grabbing around the inner joint of his hip. “Love being taken, don’t you Jared?” 

“Fuck, Jensen.” Jared moans, trying to arch back against Jensen’s cock, and those fingers close tighter around his throat, hand between his legs gripping him harder and holding him still. The motion sends a jolt rushing through him, heartbeat pounding furiously in his cock, balls tightening with the flush of blood and need, everything narrowing to Jensen’s hands on him, that voice like pure sex, his wicked, talented mouth on Jared’s skin. Jensen possessing and owning him, turning him inside out so fucking easily.

Push of Jensen’s thumb against his throat, tilting Jared’s head further to the side, exposing his neck. “Dying for it,” words murmured out against thin skin, “aren’t you?” Sharp nip of teeth, and Jared twitches, sucking in a harsh breath. “Just…” one fingertip grazing the round fullness of his balls, “dying…” slow squeeze against his inner thigh, “for me…” fingers closing tight against his breath, “to fuck you,” Jensen growls, shoving his hips savagely into Jared’s. 

“God. Fuck. Please,” Jared groans, begging in a broken whisper around the fingers clutching his throat.

Jensen pulls without letting go of his hold, moving Jared with his hands until they’re past the table, weight slamming into Jared, pinning him against the wall.

“God,” Jensen murmurs, voice ragged, hips rolling into him, grinding his dick against the wall through his pants. Fingers releasing their grip between his legs, cupping Jared’s sac and _feeling_ , fingers playing, testing, teasing through the material. “Can feel how ready you are. Balls all heavy and tight. Fucked yourself on your fingers last night and came all over yourself while I listened… and you’re still so fucking _ready_ for it.” Gentle squeeze and Jared’s cock surges, twitching vainly. “Such a fucking slut for my cock, aren’t you, Jared?”

“Fuck yes,” Jared whispers. 

He can feel Jensen’s mouth curve in a knowing smile against his skin, that teasing hand sliding up the inside of his hip, tugging the button of his pants, other hand trailing up Jared’s neck, gripping his chin tight, turning him, Jensen kissing him hard, rough, tongue sliding deep into Jared’s mouth and tasting him. Jared feels his body go loose, heavy and pliant, heat snaking all through him, suffusing his muscles, his mind. He lifts his arms, puts his hands together above his head, palms resting against the cool wall. Jensen hums approval into his mouth and Jared feels it all the way to his toes.

“So good, Jared… God, the way you want it.” Jensen’s voice is shaking, deep and raw and dark as sin. 

Jensen draws the zipper down, fingers slipping inside Jared’s boxers. Thumb brushing the slick slit, and Jared thrusts his hips helplessly, groaning when Jensen’s weight keeps him exactly where Jensen wants him. Jensen chuckles darkly, playing lightly in the wetness, and then, just the edge of Jensen’s thumbnail, gliding against the slit, and then pressing _in_.

“Jesus fuck,” Jared chokes out, feeling like he’s strangling on the words. The sensation slingshots through him, setting every nerve on edge like he’s catching on fire. Jensen’s mouth, sucking hard against the base of his neck, other hand riding down the back of his pants, feeling the bare curve of his ass. Jared moves his feet apart, and Jensen bites him _hard_ teeth closing around a knob of bone in Jared’s spine. It hurts and it feels fucking fantastic, and Jared bites down against the inside of his jaw. God, Jensen’s so fucking turned on right now, and it’s making Jared crazy, just knowing it.

Slow fingertip tracing his rim, shivers flooding through him, pad wet and scraping rough against where he’s softest, and it’s the most glorious feeling. Sliding smoothly inside, filling him all the way to the bottom in one quick stroke and he can’t fucking _breathe_.

Jensen’s finger is only wet with spit, but he takes it easily, spine stiffening, fingers clutching against the wall. It hardly even stings, and he wants _more_ , knows he could take more—but so does Jensen. He _really_ wants Jensen to just shove his cock inside him right the fuck _now_ \--but he breathes in deep, makes himself wait for everything he knows Jensen’s going to give him. That finger working inside him, so knowing, seeking out every perfect spot and rubbing just enough to send sparks shattering through him, thumb lined along the crease above, rest of his fingers sliding against the skin lower with a light, teasing touch. 

“Not enough for you,” Jensen whispers, smirk carried in his voice. “Is it?” he demands, finger twisting viciously inside Jared, and Jared’s knees give out, give completely, Jensen’s body all that’s holding him up.

“No.” 

Jensen thrusts a second finger inside him without ceremony, and his head snaps back, throat pushing out sounds. Other hand feathering over his cock, thumb gliding through the slick mess at the head, fingers pinching the tip lightly, whole of Jensen’s weight, all that muscle molded tight against him.

“Jensen,” he breaks, begs—can’t help it.

“So goddamned pretty when you beg,” Jensen says, leaning close, breathing out hot behind his ear. “Come on, Jared.” Those fingers, working slow, curling rhythm inside him. “Tell me…” breath and sharp teeth against his ear, “what you need.” Quick twist of Jensen’s wrist, third finger shoved inside him, surging hard, and fuck—oh _Christ_ \--

“Fuck me.” Mouth painting hot, half-spoken shapes against the eggshell paint. “God, please, fucking _fuck me_.”

“Begging for it. Fucking _slut_.” 

Jensen pulls his fingers free with one last twist, leaving Jared gasping and empty… and then Jared can hear him, spitting into his hand, can almost see him slicking up his cock, hand riding the long, thick length. Hands shoving his pants down, forearm pressing against the back of his neck, holding him, hot, wet cockhead pressing up into him. Nudging, just barely parting him, and he bites into his lower lip, eyes clenching shut, tries not to beg, but Jensen’s right _there_ , so goddamned close to exactly where Jared wants him.

“Please.”

Jensen pushes off the balls of his feet and fills Jared with one jagged thrust that short-circuits his brain, fingernails scrabbling against the wall, lungs empty, mouth open, whole body seizing. God, _fuck yes_ \--THIS.

“Jesus Christ, Jensen.” Jensen yanks back with his hips and Jared doesn’t even have time to breathe before Jensen’s slamming inside him again, rough and hard and so fucking deep, hips grinding in a circle when he hits bottom and then tearing back out. It’s too much, Jensen’s arm pinning him, other hand holding his hip, cock drilling into Jared so hard and fast that his whole body shakes, his own cock trapped between his belly and the wall, and Jensen’s not giving him an inch, not letting him get even the slightest bit of friction.

“Begged me... for it,” Jensen breathes out between thrusts. “Gonna… give it… to you.” He snaps his hips, pounding into Jared, and Jared can hear the smack of their skin, feel the sting of Jensen’s body, the way they’re both beginning to sweat. So good, that strong hand gripping his hip, nails digging in with the barest edge of pain, the feel of Jensen’s body, his teeth fastened to the back of Jared’s neck, cock driving into him mercilessly, hitting that bundle of nerves with spikes and shivers of delicious pleasure that ripple all through him, next wave hitting before the one before it fades out. Jensen’s fucking him within an inch of his life and he’s gone with it, completely overwhelmed by the feel of Jensen inside him, all over him, the sensations spiraling up through his stomach, cock aching almost painfully hard and begging to be touched.

Lips teasing over the bite marks on the back of his neck, breath leaving chills across the sensitive skin, and Jensen lifts the arm pinning Jared’s shoulders, slides a fist into his hair and pulls the strands tight, yanking Jared’s head back. Jensen’s cheek grazing his chin, teeth scraping along the bone, “Still not enough for you, is it?” Jensen’s voice is a sinuous whisper against his skin, and he shudders. 

“Never.”

Jensen gathers his stomach muscles under him, drops his knees a fraction and fucks into Jared so hard that Jared feels his whole body slide up the wall, all the breath flying from his lungs, eyes and mouth going wide. Jared’s barely aware when Jensen lets go of his hair and slides an arm around Jared’s chest, pushing him against the wall and holding him tight against Jensen’s chest at the same time—and then Jensen slams into him _again_. The choked sound he makes cuts off in the middle, eyes squeezing shut, whole body quivering, shocking pleasure rushing through him and leaving him senseless. And then the hand on his hip glides over his belly, down to the head of his cock, and Jensen-- _flicks_ his fucking thumbnail across the slit, catching on the sensitive edge as he slams into Jared one more time and that’s _it_.

His whole body goes stiff, every muscle locked down with a feeling like he’s going to explode if he relaxes even a fraction—and then his orgasm smashes through him, quick and gloriously fucking hard, wrecking him completely. Jensen keeps fucking him ruthlessly hard, hitting the bundle of nerves inside him again fingernail rubbing back and forth across the slit while his cock pulses, motions of Jensen’s hips grinding his dick against the wall the whole time, and it’s too fucking _much_ , world graying out and narrowing to the focus of Jensen’s hands on him, his cock fucking into Jared with such exquisite brutality that he feels like he’s going to wrench right out of his skin. Jensen draws it out relentlessly, won’t let him move or get a second of relief, until Jared’s head snaps back, crying out through clenched teeth as he lets Jensen wring every last sensation out of him.

“Fucking Christ, Jared,” Jensen hisses. “So goddamned gorgeous, so… fucking … beautiful.” Hot mouth covering his, sweet swirl of tongue and Jensen thrusts one last time, every muscle in his body tightening, slick hand coming up to grab Jared’s jaw and pull him in deeper. Jared feels him come, hot, wet, pulsing inside him, teeth biting savagely into his lower lip, arm crushing Jared close, mouth sucking the breath from him. God--still fucking him, deep, ragged thrusts spiking aftershocks, cock twitching uselessly against his stomach. And fuck yes, _this_ , always this; Jensen’s mouth on his, body and hands wrapped around him, fucking him and kissing him like _this_ , like Jared’s all that exists.

“I… love you…” Jared gasps, biting at Jensen’s mouth.

There’s a long moment, both of them just breathing, Jensen’s body slowing and stilling against him, forehead pressed against his, slippery with sweat.

“Duh,” Jensen whispers, smiling as he presses his lips to Jared’s.

*

After they clean up and unpack Jared’s suitcase, they move towards the kitchen to start making dinner. Jared’s starving; the lunch he ate hours ago in first class had been pretty awful, and there hadn’t nearly been enough of it.

“So how was the Nanotechnology Symposium, overall?” Jensen asks, flipping on the kitchen lights.

Jared’s focus had turned towards nanotechnology in his fifth year of school. With serious environmental problems facing the earth over the course of the next several decades, it had seemed like one of the most likely and interesting fields for a physics engineering major. Jensen had agreed, and the two of them have been working side by side in nanotechnology research and development for the last four years—full-time in the last two since Jared graduated.

Jared had worried in the beginning that maybe Jensen wouldn’t like narrowing his field and options to this kind of research, but he’s just as fascinated by it as Jared, and Jared couldn’t be more grateful every goddamned day that they get to work together.

“Weird.” Jared pauses, leaning against the fridge as Jensen walks past him. “I just spent the last four days being called Dr. Padalecki.”

“You’ve been Dr. Padalecki for two years now.”

“Yeah, and I work with _you_ \--pretty much exclusively. I’m used to being called Jared. Not mention the whole thing was dull and kinda stuffy.”

“So I was right?” Jensen asks, smirking just slightly, standing next to the stove.

“Yep. You’d have been bored out of your mind; bunch of engineers standing around going over the same breakthroughs and problems you and I have been going over for years. I was bored.”

Jensen pauses for a moment, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose, and then he reaches up, opens a cabinet door next to the stove. “Cornell called this afternoon,” Jensen says as he pulls down a metal bowl.

“Again?” Jared’s crouching down in front of the refrigerator, taking lettuce and tomatoes from the bottom drawer.

Cornell heads two of the lead Nanotech research facilities in the country, the Environmental Center being its newest, and tried to get Jensen to come there when they opened a year and a half ago. Jensen had cordially informed them that he and Dr. Padalecki were a team, and they’d been all too eager to accept them both on staff—they’d mentioned Jared’s published thesis paper regarding the practical and government obstacles facing development of clean water using nanotechnology, which had left Jared reeling just slightly. Jensen had been smug, with every right since he’d told Jared it was brilliantly written and the entire community should be paying attention to the solutions he’d laid out. 

“Dr. Silver is very insistent,” Jensen says, wry. 

“What’d you tell him this time?” 

It had been a tense time between them, the first time Cornell had made the offer. Jensen saw it as a huge opportunity for Jared’s burgeoning career even though Jensen hadn’t wanted to move or belong to any kind of agency—especially not permanently, so far from home. Jared had immediately agreed with Jensen, but Jensen made him take his time and think about what Jared would be passing up before he’d accept any kind of final decision. Jared finally sat him down and explained that with their combined wealth, it wasn’t like anyone needed to hire them or give them a grant and that there were plenty of facilities right here in California for them to conduct their experiments in. That there wasn’t any reason they couldn’t do here what they’d be doing in New York. Reminded Jensen that they’re both comfortable here, happy here—not to mention that neither of them wants to weather a full winter in Ithaca.

“Same thing as the last five times; we’ll consider working for the Environmental Nanotechnology Center when they build one in California.”

Jared smiles and rises to his feet, turning around towards the sink. He pulls the cutting board from the dish drainer, surprised to find it there instead of its usual spot on the counter to the side, and wonders briefly what Jensen used it for this afternoon.

Jared moved in officially during his third year of school, even though it stopped being Jensen’s house and started being theirs after the year or so. Sometimes it catches him by surprise that he’s still here, in this house, in this kitchen where he’d first made sandwiches with his teacher almost ten years ago, everything so easily, comfortably familiar, almost exactly the same as it was then. There’s new tile on the floor with swirling gray, delicate veins through white to match the marble countertops, cabinets newer, smoother, gleaming white, but those things are small changes. He loves being here, in the middle of all the memories they’ve made.

Jensen moves up behind him, setting the bowl and a knife on the counter next to the cutting board. His hands smooth up Jared’s sides and then snake around his waist, chest pressing in close, point of his chin pushing into Jared’s shoulder, and Jared can feel his heartbeat, strong and solid against Jared’s back. 

“Any regrets?” Jensen asks, voice low and warm, fingers lacing through Jared’s. Jared’s sure he’s asking about Cornell, and it feels good to know that. Seven, even six years ago, Jensen would have been asking the same question in a different way all together, worried about Jared still wanting to be here. 

He smiles then, and squeezes Jensen’s hands before he lets go and turns around inside the circle of Jensen’s arms.

“I was just thinking… about how long it’s been. How much has changed.” He settles his fingertips along one of those gorgeous cheekbones, palm cupping the angle of Jensen’s jaw line. 

Jensen arches a cool brow above the line of his glasses, like he’s still waiting for an answer, but there’s a hint of a smile quirking the edge of his mouth. 

“How much hasn’t,” he adds, looking right into those gold-flecked green eyes. The crinkles at the corners have deepened a little, and there're a few more of them than there used to be, but it only makes him even sexier.

Jensen brushes his lips against Jared’s. “That’s sweet. But--”

“But, ‘Answer the fucking question, Padalecki’,” Jared interrupts, smile turning rueful.

“It’s as if you know me,” Jensen says, eyes widening just a fraction, glimmer of amusement dancing in them.

“Yeah, I do,” Jared says, sliding his other hand up Jensen’s chest, palm curling against the beat there, fingertips tightening. “Slave driver. You never let anything slide.”

Jensen’s expression slides closer to serious, amusement fading out. “Is there any reason you’d be trying to slide by on the answer?”

“No,” Jared breathes, shakes his head. “No regrets. Not a single one.” He kisses Jensen, warm, gentle. “Not for Cornell or anything else. I was just… reminiscing a little.”

Jensen pulls back, looking at Jared intently, knowing glint in his eyes. “The reunion?”

Jared thinks for a second, and then nods, realizing. “Yeah. I guess so.” 

Jensen nods once, taking a deep breath and breathing out slow. “I don’t suppose you’d rather cut off a limb than go?” he asks, like it physically pains him to say the words.

“No sir,” Jared grins. “Liking my limbs right where they are.”

Jensen’s face tightens, eyes flashing dark heat for a split second, and Jared loves it; loves that it still drives Jensen crazy.

Jensen runs a finger up under Jared’s chin, studying him carefully for a moment. “Jared.” His voice is a soft hot breath against Jared’s face, mouth a hair’s breadth from Jared’s. “If you think for one second that I’m falling for _that_ , then you are sadly mistaken.”

“Oh, come on.” Jared winds his arms around Jensen’s neck and leans their foreheads together, still smiling. “You know you find me completely irresistible.”

“Completely,” Jensen agrees, deadpan. “And yet,” Jensen goes on with obvious sarcasm, his brows rising slowly, “I’m finding the idea of going to this reunion remarkably resistable.”

Jared blinks, laugh bubbling up unexpectedly from his chest. “You just said resistable.”

Jensen just looks at him for a second, jaw shifting, muscle flexing under the skin. “Because you and Chad are a horrible influence on my life,” Jensen sighs, rolling his eyes and then closing them. 

“Your vocabulary has been irrevocably violated,” Jared mourns along with him, tightening his arms around Jensen’s neck.

Jensen’s eyes snap open and narrow on Jared’s. “I’m so glad you’re entertained by my ‘violated vocabulary’,” he says, voice dry. “It’s _not_ endearing me to your cause."

“Oh, I need to endear you?” Jared asks, like he’d had no idea. “Well, picture the class clown, most athletic, most popular and voted most likely by all his other teachers not-to-succeed waltzing into the reunion with the insanely hot former physics teacher and explaining to everyone that they’re saving the world together.”

Jensen chews at the inside of his jaw for a long moment, turning that over. “We don’t have anything to prove, Jared.” Jensen’s shaking his head.

“And then,” Jared goes on, “imagine them dancing together on the high school gym floor, right there in front of everyone like they wanted to ten years ago.”

Jensen goes still against him. “Jared,” Jensen says, quietly. There’s so much carried in that one word, his name wrapped around Jensen’s tongue. It falls there between them into the silence.

“I know,” Jared says, leaning to nudge their chins together. “It’s everything you hate; mindless ritual and conformity and something that ‘other people’ do, but the hell with all of that. Put all that aside for a just a few seconds and really think about how nice it would be to finally get that chance. Can’t you see it?”

“I can.” Jensen sighs, low and deep, line marring the smoothness between his brows. “That’s what bothers me the most.”

“Wow,” Jared breathes, appreciative. “Chad and I really _have_ been a horrible influence.”

Jensen purses his lips, still thoughtful, and then finally he draws another deep breath and nods his head. “Okay. We’ll go.”

Jared stares at him. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“I said,” Jensen’s voice rises a notch, going a little more stern, like he’s daring Jared to challenge him, “we’ll go to the reunion.”

“Just… like that?” Jared asks, shaking his head.

“Or we could fight about it,” Jensen offers, mouth curving in a hard-edged smirk as he lifts his chin a fraction.

“No. I just…” Jared reaches for words and comes up empty, finally kisses Jensen again instead. He has no idea why Jensen agreed—much less so easily—but he doesn’t really care. “I could wear the necklace,” he says instead, wanting to offer Jensen something in return, and yeah, okay, the very idea is making half-hard, so he guesses it’s really a mutually beneficial offering.

“Damned right you’re wearing the necklace,” Jensen growls, nipping at Jared’s lower lip, fingers squeezing quick and hard at Jared’s waist. Jared feels the touch and the words jolt through him with a rush of heat, and he moans, hips pushing against Jensen’s.

“Jared…” Jensen lets his fingers trail away as he pulls back. “Make the salad.”

_Tease_ , Jared thinks, sees the answering laughter in Jensen’s eyes. There’s not a trace of it anywhere else on his face though, and Jared turns around to start rinsing the vegetables.

Jensen runs a light fingertip up the cleft of Jared’s ass through his pants, and Jared shivers. “Don’t worry.” Jensen’s voice is musing, almost thoughtful, lips moving against the back of Jared’s neck as he speaks, hot breaths of air making the tiny hairs stand up on end, and Jared feels his stomach flutter. “I spent the last four days thinking about everything I was going to do to you when you got back.” Jared’s stomach flips over inside him at the words and his cock strains against the inside of his boxers, already aching hard with the promise in Jensen’s voice.

His cell phone rings then, startling him from the mood. Jensen chuckles against the back of his neck, pulling away with a graze of teeth across the ridge at the top of Jared’s spine. It’s Chad’s ring tone, and Jared could ignore it, but Jensen’s already gone. Jared shoves his hand into his pocket, heart beating too fast, annoyance hitting him hard and fast as Jensen moves to the other side of the kitchen.

He clicks the button and yanks the phone to his ear. “Dude, your timing sucks.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can save the mushy shit for later, Jay. Did you get the fuckin’ invitation or what?”

Jared frowns, pushing his head into the phone and locking it against his shoulder as he turns on the water and rinses the lettuce. “For the reunion?”

“Yeah, the fuckin’ _reunion_ , Dr. Genius.” He can practically hear Chad rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, I got it,” he answers. What he doesn’t get is why Chad sounds so excited. That usually never means anything good.

“So did you see the _theme_?”

Jared thinks for a second, cutting off the water as he lays the lettuce on the cutting board. “No. Musta missed that part.”

“Dude!” Chad is ecstatic. “Prohibition! _Gangsters_! Zoot suits! We’re gonna be rolling up in there like fuckin’ Al Capone and shit.”

Jared feels his chest tighten, heart skip a beat and then sink right to his stomach. “Are you fucking serious?”

There’s a hesitation on the other end, and then Chad laughs, loud and long, and Jared can _see_ him, head thrown back, overjoyed. “Oh, _fuck_. You talked Jenny into going? How the fuck did you pull _that_ shit off, Jay? He’s gonna _flip_.”

“I know,” Jared hisses, grinding his teeth. God. Zoot suits? He can just imagine the look on Jensen’s face when he finds out. Jensen’s going to _kill_ him.

“Oh, this is too fuckin’ good, Jay. I’m calling his uptight ass right the hell now.”

“Chad-- _no!_ ” The line goes dead.

_Fuck._

Across the room, Jensen’s phone begins to ring with the sound of ‘The Toccatta and Fugue in D Minor’. 

*

Jensen doesn’t let the zoot suit issue pass without comment, and he does take it out on Jared in ways that make Jared half-hard just thinking about them, but mostly, Jensen takes it in stride. They go to get measured for the suits later that week, and Jensen doesn’t complain, doesn’t lecture, and finally Jared has to ask. Jensen gets this vague smirk and shrugs one shoulder and mentions the cut being flattering. It takes Jared a full five minutes of his brain spinning before he realizes he’s been had; Jensen honestly could have cared less about the suits. Not that Jared’s complaining about the ‘punishment’ he received, but to think that all this time Jensen’s just been _messing_ with him…? 

Jared’s annoyed for all of two seconds before he busts out laughing. 

It strikes Jared then, for a split second standing still for the blonde girl with the tape measure, that maybe he should be a little worried about this whole thing. Jensen’s rarely agreed to anything like this so easily, and even standing here, looking at Jensen now, he’s got this secretive little smile playing on his lips that Jared can’t quite read. And then the girl’s hand brushes too close to his crotch for comfort and he startles, making her blush and giggle nervously before she apologizes. 

It’s not until a few weeks later when they go in for the final fitting that Jared remembers what he’d been thinking about.

*

Chad’s been busy on the promotional tour for his book for the last two months, but whenever Jared calls, he still answers the phone—even if he’s in the middle of a promotion or an after signing. Long enough to make sure Jared’s okay before he tells him he’ll call him back later. This time when Jared calls, Chad picks up right away and there isn’t a single sound in the background, and Jared takes that as his cue.

“Okay,” Chad breathes when Jared’s finally done spilling everything to him. “Let’s say for a second you’re right. Jensen’s got some Oliver fuckin’ Stone motive for going to the reunion. What the hell do you think he’s got planned, Jay? I mean he’s almost forty, for fuck’s sake. You think he’s gonna pelt everybody with fuckin’ Geritol? Hit somebody with his cane?”

Jared rolls his eyes and adjusts his phone against his ear. “I was more worried about me. About me and Jensen, more specifically.”

“Dude, he was your teacher when you started fucking him, not to mention he was so fuckin’ tweaked that Van Gogh woulda been impressed. Seriously Jay, wonder you didn’t have severed ears showing up in your mailbox the first couple years. He cleaned his oven with a _toothpick_ \--”

“That was _your_ fault.”

“Dude, it was a joke; I didn’t think he’d actually _listen_ to me. Anyway, you’re missing the point, Jay,” Chad sighs, sounding put-upon.

“That’s because you never tell me what the point _is_ until after you tell me I’m missing the point.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to get it without me having to explain it. Ruins the whole fuckin’ flow, dude. Here I am, trying to dispense my pearls of wisdom to you--”

“Your pearls of wisdom are like the blister packs we used to get out of bubblegum machines when we were kids. The ones with the little gooey rubber things in them that had eyeballs.” Jared pauses, remembering, and frowns. “What the hell were those things, anyway?”

“You done?” Chad asks after a second, and Jared can hear the snap of a lighter through the phone, hear Chad inhale.

Jared finally sighs, sagging against the doorway. “Fine. Bottom line it for me.”

“Teacher. Fucking. Scrooge. Van Gogh. Lucky he’s got ears left. Cleaning ovens with toothpicks.” Chad pauses, exhaling in a short breath like a laugh. “And you’re gonna start worrying _now_?”

Chad makes a good point. Chad always makes good points. Which is really… not ever going to make sense Jared, but still.

“I just.” Jared sighs again, running a hand through his hair as he leans back. “What if he’s just doing it to make me happy?”

“Jay.” Chad’s voice is quick and sharp. “Not like Jenny’s the poster child for the patron saint of nobility or anything, but… so fuckin’ what if he is?”

Jared thinks about that for a long second, words settling in. 

“Dammit, Chad.”

Chad huffs out another smoky laugh. “I didn’t get a degree in psychology for nothing.”

*

Jared spends the next two days convincing himself that it doesn’t matter why Jensen’s going; that Chad’s right. Even if Jensen’s doing it just to make Jared happy, it shouldn’t matter. That should be a _good_ thing, in fact. But Jared knows Jensen inside out after all this time, and something about it doesn’t sit right. Jensen hate these kinds of things… and yet he agreed with hardly the rise of a brow, didn’t even protest when Chad told him about the theme, though he’d teased Jared about it mercilessly and subjected Jared to countless lectures about the era of Prohibition and gangs and the history of the zoot suit, and Jared had once again been left in awe of how much knowledge Jensen stores in his brain. That part, at least, had been Jensen-like. But the rest…

It’s weird. It’s different. And Jensen’s capable of change, but it’s usually a very slow process.

Jared wants to ask, he really does. But he’s afraid the second he pushes Jensen he’ll shatter this spell, that Jensen will take it all back just on principle if Jared reminds him for a single second that he’s not supposed to be acting this way. He knows it’s selfish in a way, not to ask, to just let Jensen do this without making sure if Jensen’s really okay with it. He _thinks_ Jensen _might_ be okay with it, though; and that’s the worst part of all. It doesn’t make any sense. Jensen might be different than most people—it’s what Jared loves about him, after all—but he almost always makes sense, even if it’s the kind that wouldn’t to most other people. Jared almost always gets where Jensen’s coming from.

And this time? He really doesn’t. It’s… disconcerting. He’s not used to Jensen being disconcerting anymore.

When Saturday comes, Jared wakes up with all these thoughts still clattering inside his head, feeling guilty and worried for approximately point two seconds before he realizes he’s awake because Jensen’s mouth is wrapped around his cock. Jensen makes him come with three fingers in his ass and then fucks him slow and lazy against the bed and it’s at least another hour before he can _move_ , much less think.

It’s mid-afternoon, suits hanging in smooth plastic bags from the hooks in the backseat of Jensen’s car when Jared finally finds the nerve to ask.

“Jensen.” Jared takes a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Driving?” Jensen inquires as he shifts gears. 

“You know what I mean.” He risks a glance at Jensen.

The sunlight just beginning to slant hard through the windows, taking on that midday glare, and Jensen’s face is brightly lit, almost glowing as he squints through his glasses at the road.

“Jared,” he says after a moment, voice completely level. “Do you trust me?”

It’s not a _real_ question; there’s no urgency, no need in Jensen to know the truth of Jared’s answer. Jensen knows damned well that Jared trusts him and always has—he does _now_ , anyway, even if it took him long enough to get it.

“You know I do.”

Jensen nods and shifts gears again, reaching over to grab Jared’s hand. He laces their fingers together and sets Jared’s palm against the gearshift underneath his hand, fingers closing their hands to grip it. 

“Then trust me.”

The feel of Jensen’s hand closed around his is as comforting as Jensen’s assurance, and Jared decides to let it go. For whatever reason, Jensen wants to do this, and Jared really wants them to have a good time together tonight. He’s not going to let his own doubts eat him alive. He _does_ trust Jensen. 

*

When Jared emerges from the bathroom, hair tousled and damp from the shower, towel slung low around his waist, Jensen’s standing in front of the full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He’s got his thumb and forefinger wrapped around the brim of his black hat, tugging it down just a fraction, and from here, all Jared can see is the angular curves of his jaw pointing down against his chest, that full mouth and nose just barely highlighted shadow cut from the light of the room.

Jared’s fingers loose from the grip he was holding on the towel and it hits the floor in a graceless heap as his mouth falls open.

Jensen is _gorgeous_. He’s always gorgeous, with clothes or without them--though Jared has a certain fondness for the hotness that is Jensen in a suit—but in this moment, he’s pretty fucking sure he’s never seen Jensen look more amazing.

The suit is pure white with thin, light-gray pinstripes, and it fits perfectly across his muscular shoulders, falling from the points at the shoulders to accentuate just the hint of muscle there and then loose to the sleeves, material crinkling with deep shadows where one arm bends to slide a hand into the pocket pants. The jacket falls slightly triangular to his slender waist, and then flares just slightly out again as it flows down his hips, black buttons left undone so that Jared can plainly see the crisp white shirt beneath, the way the tie hangs straight and perfect down the middle to cover the button of his pants. The pants are pleated and loose-fitting, but not dramatically so, and they’re made of the kind of material that clings and hugs in just the right places to give a hint at the body beneath. From here, Jared can see the front of him _and_ the back, and the white material clings to his ass perfectly, accentuating the shape. 

There’s a slight jingle as Jensen shifts his hand inside his pocket, double chains attached to the waist of his pants looping just under the pocket and just below his knee before they swoop gracefully up to clasp in the corner of the pocket.

He looks regal; almost otherworldly he’s so fucking perfect, so goddamned classy and sexy right down to his black-and-white patent leather Oxfords that the sight makes Jared weak in the knees.

  


“Holy fucking shit,” Jared breathes.

Jensen’s mouth curves slightly in the mirror, and he tugs the hat again just a tiny bit, lifting his face to meet Jared’s eyes in the mirror. Chin jutting out, rugged jaw smooth, those dark green eyes almost lost in the shadow beneath the edge of the hat and he’s so fucking _beautiful_ that it makes Jared’s heart hurt, makes him want to stand here and look at him like this forever.

“You look…” Jared takes a deep breath, feeling like he got kicked in the chest. “Phenomenal.”

“And you’re wearing my favorite,” Jensen says as he turns to face Jared, eyes running from Jared’s feet up to his face as he walks closer. Jared is mesmerized by the way the material clings and falls away from his musculature. “I’d love to take you in there just like this,” Jensen says, voice quiet and roughed with want, close enough now that Jared can feel the air move against his face, warm with Jensen’s words. Jensen touches a light fingertip between Jared’s pecs, and Jared shivers at the touch, the thought of Jensen showing him off like that, his nipples hardening almost instantly as chills rush through him. Jensen trails down slowly through the line separating Jared’s stomach muscles, mouth brushing Jared’s throat.

“Turn around,” he demands in a husky whisper. 

Jared does, eager to comply, thrill shooting through him as he puts his back to Jensen. He can hear Jensen’s suit rustle as he does something, and then Jensen’s hands float into view on either side of his face. The platinum chain strung between them glints in the light, tiny shape of a three dimensional lock dangling from the center. Jared feels his heart speed up as he reaches back, lifting his hair out of the way without needing to be told. Jensen’s fingers brush against his neck as he settles the necklace around Jared’s neck. It fits snug, lock resting just in the hollow of his throat as Jensen latches it closed. 

It’s not exactly like wearing the collar, but it’s close enough--the feeling of Jensen right there around his neck turns him on incredibly anyway. It hangs like a low choker, and it’s invisible under the collar of any button down shirt. He loves that he can wear it out in normal public places, right under his clothing where no one can see it, but they both know it’s there. The symbol of his belonging to Jensen, tiny weight pressed against the fluttering beat of his heart, and fuck, he thinks, biting down on his lower lip. He’s going to be fighting off getting hard for at least half the night.

“I love that I don’t even have to touch you to get you this turned on, Jared. Just look at you.” Jensen runs his hands down Jared’s bare sides, and Jared shivers, almost trembling, skin breaking into goose bumps, cock twitching and almost fully hard. “Hard just thinking about what the chain around your neck means, how it reminds you that you _belong_ to me.” Jensen’s fingertips graze lightly over his hips, leaving chills in their wake, and Jared bites down harder against his lower lip. 

Jensen’s fingertips feather trails down his thighs, nails scraping back up, around, under the curve of Jared’s ass, fingertips of one hand settling along the edge of the swell. “The slightest reminder that you’re mine and you’re ready to beg for it…” The chain around Jared’s neck tightens as Jensen slips his fingers underneath the chain links, and Jared gasps. “Aren’t you?” Jensen’s voice is a sinuous dark thread inside Jared’s brain, mouth hot against his ear, teeth closing along the edge and sinking deep.

“Yes,” Jared breathes, whole body tense, muscles trembling.

“You’re going to spend all night thinking about it. Imagining my hands on you, pushing you against the wall and fucking you. I could do it right there in front of everyone, all your former classmates… and you’d not only let me… you’d love it.”

“God, yes,” Jared manages, almost strangling on the words, thought filling his mind until he can’t see anything or think about anything else. It’s such a pretty fantasy, Jensen spreading him out right there on one of the tables, or pushing him against the wall and fucking him within an inch of his life while the whole room watches. His cock is throbbing with need, balls aching and heavy between his legs, and Jensen runs his hand over the round of Jared’s ass, squeezing hard enough to make Jared gasp again. He doesn’t move though, doesn’t jerk, doesn’t even so much as twitch—not with Jensen’s finger under the chain. He might as well be tied in place, Jensen holding him by a single fingertip.

“So good, Jared,” Jensen murmurs, and the words of approval hit him like a freight train, going straight to the pleasure center of his brain. “You were always incredible… but you’ve gotten even better.” Jensen traces out the curve of Jared’s ear with his tongue and Jared feels like he’s going to snap any second—but he won’t. They both know he won’t.

The hand on Jared’s ass slides around to his stomach and then down, fingers curling around the hard length of Jared’s cock and he shudders, groaning as he bites down so hard that he thinks he’s going to draw blood. Soft feathering strokes that tease more than they pleasure, playing with him, necklace pulled taut against his throat, voice whispering things into his ear that send his mind spinning, his cock straining, begging for more.

“Please,” he whispers, even though he knows it’s in vain—it’s part of the game, but he can never help hoping that maybe this time—

“Later,” Jensen promises, pressing a kiss against Jared’s pulse. “Right now, you need to get dressed,” Jensen adds as his hands slip away.

Jared takes a few deep breaths after Jensen leaves the room, and reminds himself that the teasing, the waiting is all part of the fun. It’s another few minutes before he can convince himself it’s the truth. Finally, he slides on his boxers and moves to the closet.

Jared’s suit is silk damask, elegant pattern woven black on black, silk black dress shirt underneath with black suspenders and a white tie for contrast. The jacket is longer than Jensen’s and it curves around his body in a long oval shape that pulls away starting mid-thigh, the bottom edge brushing the backs of his knees. His pants are sewn tighter at the ankle, giving them a cuffed look, but though they’re loose, they don’t flare nearly as wide at any point as most of the pictures he’s seen. He attaches the single chain to the waistline and lets it loop down just under his knee, fastening it to his right pocket. Silk socks come next, and then the Spectator shoes made of black patent leather with a white panel cut to look like snakeskin. They gleam, looking sharp as the rest of him as he stands up, and he puts the hat on last, adjusting it. The black fedora with a white band is simple and elegant, completing the look. He has to admit, it looks pretty damned good on him when it’s all put together.

Jensen stops when he comes back into the bedroom, just looking at Jared for a long second. He crosses the room and then Jensen’s got his hands running all over the smooth material, feeling the shape of Jared’s body through it. “You look,” Jensen murmurs, “God… you _feel_ \--” 

The doorbell rings then, and Jensen freezes. “Dammit.”

“That’ll be our date,” Jared says with a grin, maybe just a little more pleased with this teasing payback than he should be.

Jensen can see it, too. He narrows his eyes at Jared, promising more torture later, and then turns to go answer the door. Jared straightens his tie and follows Jensen down the hall, arriving at the front door just as Jensen’s opening it.

Chad struts in through the doorway. His zoot suit is _violently_ purple, one arm tucking a purple plastic machine gun with an orange cap against his side. His smile is blinding as he aims it at Jensen—who looks like he’s frozen in horror, staring at Chad.

“They were all out of hot pink?” Jensen asks, droll.

“Don’t be jealous, Jenny. You know you love it and wish you had the balls to wear it,” Chad fires back.

“I’m not sure ‘balls’ is the term I’d use,” Jensen goes on, dry as he looks Chad up and down again. “And could you please never reference my balls again in _any_ kind of conversation?”

“Oh right,” Chad says. “I forgot how that turns you on and shit. It’s all good, dude, I understand.” Chad claps Jensen sympathetically on the shoulder and Jensen’s eyes move slowly to look pointedly at Chad’s hand on him. “Now quit with the posturing bullshit and put ‘em up, Jenny-boy,” Chad says as he lifts his hand and opens his palm towards Jensen. 

Jensen shakes his head, smirking, and then lifts a hand to high five Chad as he rolls his eyes, bemused. It still floors Jared, every time they do this. Jensen wrestles with Jared, chases Jared through the house sometimes, tickles him occasionally, but Jared’s never seen Jensen high five another soul in all the ten years he’s known him. Jensen just accepts it with Chad-- _It’s easier that way_ , Jensen had told him once in an extremely tired tone of voice. 

No one ever told Jared what happened, he just knows that things were… _different_ between Jensen and Chad after they got back from Huahine. They jibed at each other with a playful air, Chad started calling him Jensen and Jenny, calling Jensen on the phone, and they even started hanging out on their own occasionally. Somewhere along the way, something happened and they became friends. Jared’s never understood it, but he’s always been so grateful that he’s never really bothered asking what it was. 

Probably he was afraid if he asked, he might break it, just like he’s afraid of asking Jensen too much about the reunion. He thumbs at the chain around his neck through the line of his shirt.

“Jay.” Chad grabs Jared’s hand and drags him into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Looking sharp, dude,” Chad says when he pulls back. “So you guys ready or what? Our chariot awaits,” Chad says with a sweeping gesture towards the door.

Chad _insisted_ they get a limo-- _you can’t roll up in the joint lookin’ like gangsters when you’re getting out of your grandma’s car_ \--and after Jared had mentally elbowed him in the ribs across the phone and joked about how spry Jensen was for a grandma, he’d agreed.

“One last thing,” Jensen says, turning and walking to kitchen. He comes back with some plastic containers, and sets them on the table by the door. He opens one and pins a single crimson-red rosebud to Jared’s lapel. Jared pins Jensen’s matching flower to his jacket just above his heart, and then Jared kisses him while Chad makes retching noises in the background and they both chuckle into each other’s mouths. When he pulls away, Chad’s standing there, looking impatient.

“Can we go, now?”

“Well,” Jensen says, “if you don’t want yours…”

“Aw, Jensen.” Chad puts a hand over his heart. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Wouldn’t want to hold you up,” Jensen shrugs.

“Cut the shit and put it on me,” Chad says, stepping up. He holds up a hand between them, pointing a finger at Jensen sternly as Jensen’s hands move to pin the white bud to his chest. “No kissing though,” he warns.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” Jensen promises, wry. He closes the clasp and then studies the flower for a moment. “I didn’t know what color you’d be wearing, and white generally goes with anything. But…” He shakes his head ruefully, looking Chad over again. “I don’t think there’s any way I could have messed this up.”

“Yeah. I love you, too, Jenny,” Chad smirks, shoving at Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen rolls his eyes, a smile ghosting over his lips so fast that if Jared had blinked he would have missed it, and then Jensen looks back to Chad with pointedly raised brows. “I thought you were in a hurry?”

“All right, let’s _go_ ,” Chad says, raising his voice and turning for the door.

Jensen’s still eyeing Chad’s suit in wonder as they walk onto the front porch. “It’s like a tragedy.” Jensen whispers out of the side of his mouth as Chad walks ahead of them.

“But it’s so _Chad_ ,” Jared whispers back.

“It really _is_ ,” Jensen agrees with a baffled, enduring sigh, so much affection wrapped around the words that they make Jared smile.

Chad slides into the limo on the side facing the back window, and Jensen touches his hand to the small of Jared’s back as Jared bends to get inside, helping guide him until he settles against the seat. Jensen slides in beside him, and they’re off.

Dinner is at a fancy Italian place Jensen picked out, and it’s all crystal glasses and chandeliers and quiet classical music until Chad settles in to them all about everything that happened to him on his book tour. Dinner is delicious, as is the wine, and when the check comes, Jensen insists on paying.

“Don’t go thinking just because you bought me dinner that I’m putting out for you later,” Chad mock-warns him as they walk to the limo.

“If you even _think_ about us having sex again, I’ll disown you as our date,” Jensen shoots back.

It’s a short drive to the school from the restaurant, but Chad still manages to get in a shot from the wet bar on the way. Jared wonders for a moment if Chad’s nervous about seeing Sandy again after all this time, but Chad hasn’t mentioned her in forever.

When they get there, Jared isn’t prepared for the wave of nostalgia that sweeps through him at the sight of the building. So much of his life was wrapped up in this place, once, and it seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago. Inside, it still smells and looks exactly the same as Jared remembers, and for a second he feels like he’s eighteen again. They pass a case of trophies along the way, and Jared’s eyes linger there for a moment, quickly scanning the years until he finds the one his basketball team won at the national championships in his junior year. It seemed like such a big deal back when they’d won, hugging and cheering and sweating, exhausted and elated as the crowd screamed around them. Now it seems remarkable only for the fact that it’s still here, a piece of his history that seems like it was so long ago. He hadn’t cared about much of anything back then, hadn’t had any goals or thoughts for a future. His junior-self would be so surprised to see him now.

He smiles to himself and links his hand through Jensen’s as they walk down the hall, Chad trailing just behind them.

In front of the doors to the gym, there’s a guy sitting behind a table that Jared thinks he vaguely recognizes, though no name springs to mind, and no memory jumps up and smacks him when they get close enough to read the guy’s name tag—Jimmy Stuart. His face is warm, round welcome and friendly as he rises and reaches to shake their hands. “Welcome to the reunion. Don’t you two look handsome,” he adds, flashing them a wide smile. “Let’s see,” he says, pulling back and touching a finger to his chin, eyes squinting at Jared. “You look familiar… hmm.”

Jared’s just about to open his mouth when the guy laughs, waving a hand at him. “Of course I recognize you, Jared. You look exactly the same. What are you doing these days?” Jimmy’s shuffling through the name tags in the box, question asked casually.

“Physics Engineering,” Jared answers, feeling a bit awkward. At least the guy isn’t acting like he knew Jared really well. Jared knows he was a prick in high school for the most part; he didn’t bother to notice most people that didn’t ‘matter’.

“Well isn’t that lovely?” Jimmy asks, handing over Jared’s name tag. “You two have fun now,” he says, waving with a wiggle of his fingers and another bright smile.

“Excuse me,” Jensen says. “I need mine, too. Jensen Ackles.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” Jimmy apologizes, looking chagrined. “I usually have such a memory for faces and names—part of the reason I got assigned this job,” Jimmy adds with a little laugh before he frowns again. “Just let me, ah…” Jimmy flips through the box of badges and stops. Jimmy frowns harder as he shuffles through the nametags again, finally pulling one up between his fingers, squinting at it like he’s not quite sure he’s got the right one. “Jensen Ackles, the Physics teacher?” he asks, sounding unsure.

“That’s right,” Jensen says, shooting Jimmy a smile so sharp and bright that it’s almost intimidating.

“Oh,” Jimmy says and nods like he understands, even though he sounds so confused that Jared wants to start laughing.

Jensen pins his name tag carefully to his chest just below his boutonniere-- _Jensen Ackles, Former Physics Teacher 2005_ \--and smoothes it down while Jimmy watches on looking vaguely scandalized. It’s not the last time people are going to be looking at them that way tonight, and Jared’s glad to see Jensen’s as unruffled as ever.

“Are you two done yet?” Chad grumbles, shoving Jared to the side as he pushes up to the table. “Fuckin’ attention whores,” he mutters like it’s a cross he has to bear on a regular basis.

“Chad,” Jimmy says, sounding even less thrilled as he tries to regain his smile. “I’d recognize your—“

“Mouth anywhere, right?” Chad interrupts, nodding. “I never liked you, either, so spare me the sentimental bullshit, Jimmy, and gimme my fuckin’ name tag, huh?” Chad asks almost conversationally. 

Jimmy hands it over hurriedly without a word, look on his face like he can’t _wait_ for the three of them to leave.

“That went well,” Jensen comments as they move down the hall towards the double-doors to the gym, and Jared covers his mouth to hide the noise of his laughter. 

Jensen pushes open the door to the gym, and the sound of _Nickelback_ singing “Photograph” hits Jared full in the face, taking him right back to his senior year. Jensen’s waiting for Jared to step through the doorway, and Jared’s breath catches as he sees the room.

It’s lit in shades of yellow and blue light, old-fashioned wooden tables and chairs gathered in neat groups around the edges of the dance floor. At the center of the room, there’s a small, unattached fountain bubbling beneath the pillars of four, tall sculpted palm tree trunks, their ‘wood’ made of a thick plastic x-pattern weave that lets light shine out through the holes. The blue light dances on the water in the fountain, making it sparkle, and lights the white fronds of the palm leaves that drip from the top like thick, jagged icicles. The whole centerpiece is lit from above with blue lights, giving the whole thing a majestic, surreal feel. 

Behind that, Jared can see the temporary wooden bar framed by stage walls painted to resemble old fashioned woodwork, the whole area lit from within by warm golden light and contained inside a graceful arch that contrasts the blue light in the foreground spectacularly. Fringes of silver foil curl down from the ceiling, reflecting and refracting shades of yellow and blue, their origins concealed by the drift of white and silver balloons that nearly glow with the colored lighting. There are people scattered all over in an array of colors, smooth lines of suits and the glimmer of gowns, most of them sitting at tables with their drinks, talking, too early and not brave enough to be dancing yet.

Jensen moves up beside Jared and offers his arm, and Jared loops his arm under Jensen’s elbow, hand resting on Jensen’s forearm before Jensen’s other hand covers his lightly.

It's all so beautiful and familiar, so reminiscent of prom that it makes Jared's heart ache. Except this time, Jensen’s beside him, exactly where Jared always wanted him, walking into the room together, tall and proud. 

“Don’t forget, you’re paying me for this by the hour,” Jensen whispers, leaning in close, voice a warm breath that teases the edge of Jared’s ear as he leads them inside.

“We made no such deal,” Jared grins, turning his face to the side and catching Jensen's eyes.

“Didn’t we?” Jensen asks, looking away as he runs his other hand down the lapel of his suit. “Good thing I worked out that contingency plan for the thirty different ways I'm gonna take this out of your ass, later, then.” Jensen smiles when he says it, and it just makes Jared grin even wider.

“Okay,” Chad says, falling into step on Jared’s other side, hands shoved in his pants pockets, machine gun still tucked under his arm. “Let’s do this.”

Jared links his other arm through Chad’s and Chad cracks a joke about them being a triple threat.

It feels perfect.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The thing about reunions, Jensen thinks, nose wrinkling as he tastes the glass of vinegar they’re passing off as red wine, is that nobody truly understands _why_ they’re here. They’re just compelled to come by some inexplicable instinct that insists people who made your life mostly miserable for four years are worth seeing again. No one knows what to say, and they stand around, awkward for at least two hours before the alcohol starts to kick in, and then the real insanity starts.

Not that Jensen ever went to his own high school reunion (a fact Chris hasn’t let him forget for the last three weeks since he found out Jensen was coming to this reunion), but he’s heard enough stories and seen enough movies—not to mention the living proof in front of him right now.

Jared is talking to some guy named John with a handsome, angular face and a body that looks like it used to be athletic once upon a time. Presumably in high school, before he got married to someone named Brianna and went into the car insurance business. Jensen trades his “wine” for a white Russian instead, and listens while John explains how things didn’t work out with him and Brianna—she’s here with some new guy who’s a hotshot real estate agent—and then the conversation turns back to the glory days of high school, when he and Jared were both playing basketball and life was good.

Jensen sips at his drink and maintains a neutral expression. Reliving the glory days; number two on the list of things that, theoretically at least, could be reasons to come here. Number one on the list is quickly made apparent when another guy ambushes Jared and proceeds to explain how well he’s doing—wife, three kids, new house, making money hand over fist in the family business—offering these things in a repetitive list as if they’re a litany meant to prove his success and happiness in life. Bob—just Bob now, not Bobby—calls over his pretty wife and introduces her to Jared as if he’s showing off a particularly important trophy. Jared takes the moment to get a word in edgewise and introduces Jensen. Jensen steps forward, offering a handshake and a vague smile, and then gets out of the way to let Jared explain what he’s been doing the last ten years.

It’s utterly boring and predictable, but then, Jensen’s reasons for coming here probably aren’t on anyone’s theoretical list.

The scenery is nice; he has to admit, eyeing Jared’s long, tall form in that suit. The feel of the heavy damask silk and Jared’s body underneath is so tantalizing that it’s taking all of his self-restraint to keep from putting his hands all over Jared. Jared’s grown another inch since they met, and he’s gotten even more muscular as he’s bumped up his workout routine in the last couple of years. He’s massive without being overdone, those wide shoulders and the obvious bulk of him, but he carries it gracefully on his lanky frame. 

Jared tilts his head, and Jensen admires the long line of his neck, squeezing his glass a little tighter. The confident angle of his shoulders, the way the material clings to him, that bright smile and easy laugh, so fucking beautiful and sexy without even trying. So different from the last time they stood in this room together and somehow still exactly the same. 

He still remembers watching Jared dance with Steve that night, unfamiliar anger clawing from the inside out, the complete undeniable _want_ that he couldn’t process—the strange, stabbing voice in his mind that insisted _mine, mine, mine_ while his fingernails dug deep into his palms. 

For all his cynicism, there’s part of him that can’t believe that they’re standing in this room again, together and stronger than he’d ever believed they could be. Jared’s grown into a man who is Jensen’s equal or better in every way, even more impressive and self-assured than the boy Jensen fell in love with. Jensen still feels pride swell in his chest every time he looks at Jared—pride and admiration and love like nothing else he’s ever felt. It’s not a selfish pride. He didn’t make Jared into what he is, and he admires Jared more for that very reason. Jared’s always been amazing, but even now, ten years later and knowing everything about Jared, Jensen never stops being surprised by him. The way he thinks, the way he speaks, moves, looks; everything about him. 

“Mr. Ackles,” someone exclaims, and then a beautiful girl with dark hair and blue eyes pushes into his space.

He recognizes her instantly, his memory for names and faces just as excellent as his memory for everything he’s ever read. He tilts his head to the side and smiles politely. “Samantha, how are you?” 

“You remember me,” she smiles back, white teeth and glossy pink mouth, pleased. “It’s so good to see you. You know I always loved your class. You were such a great teacher.”

“You were a good student. You had a head for the math.”

They talk for a few minutes about physics and cover the basic categories of small talk, and Jensen’s glad that he’s always been good at this part of socializing when he needs to be. It’s one of the few worthwhile things growing up in high society taught him.

“Jensen,” she says, and it’s almost a question, the hesitant waver in her voice, like she’s asking permission. He can’t help the way it hits him—anyone tentatively asking him permission for _anything_ goes right to the dominant, predatory part of his brain. And if it weren’t instinct to begin with, it would be conditioned into him by now, the way Jared says his name when Jensen’s touching, teasing, fucking him. But Jensen’s had that instinct almost as long as he’s been ignoring it, it’s a simple knee-jerk reaction; it doesn’t mean anything, and he doesn’t let a bit of it show, doesn’t truly feel it. 

Samantha seems undaunted as she steps a little closer and rests a hand on his forearm. “I know this might be a little forward of me… but,” she curls her lower lip under her teeth and it’s cute. “Would you like to dance?”

He reaches out and pats her hand once, and then hands it back to her. “I’m here with someone.”

“Oh.” Her face falls, and just then, Jared finishes talking to Bob and turns around.

“Hey, Samantha,” he says, smiling. “I see you met my boyfriend,” Jared goes on, slinging an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “How’ve you been?”

“That’s… He’s…” Samantha stumbles for a second trying to find the words. She’d clearly had no idea Jensen was gay, much less been prepared for this. 

“Mr. Ackles… is your boyfriend?”

“Partner, actually.”

“Well, that’s… um… how long have you two been together?”she manages.

“Almost ten years now,” Jared says, and Jensen can see she’s still pretty good at math.

“Oh. Well. I um…”

Chad chooses that moment to make his entrance. “Samaaantha,” he calls out, stepping up to her, hands in the pockets of his suit. “You look fuckin’ awesome.”

If being thrown off-kilter over Jared and Jensen being gay and together for ten years wasn’t enough, now she’s got to deal with the undeniable reality of Chad’s unfortunate choice in suit colors. The zebra-striped tie and matching zebra-striped band around the purple fedora are another level of horror all together, and deserve to be considered separately. She hasn’t gotten quite that far yet, though.

Chad doesn’t pounce on her so much as he swoops in like a vulture to pick at the remains of her dignity. Chad whisks her off to the dance floor before she has a chance to recover, sending a wink over his shoulder at Jensen and Jared. 

“I almost feel sorry for her,” Jared remarks, watching them disappear onto the dance floor.

“Almost?” Jensen asks, cocking his head at Jared.

“She _was_ hitting on you.” Jared shrugs one shoulder and sends a teasing glance at Jensen. “By the way, hope I’m not spoiling your plans.”

Jensen sets his fingertips against the top of Jared’s spine and runs his hand down the curve, eyeing Jared from head to toe with a slow lingering gaze as he leans closer. “You,” he says, voice low, before his eyes follow the lines and muscular curves back up to Jared’s face, fingers following the motion up Jared’s back, pulling him in, “ _are_ the plan.”

Jared shivers and bites his lower lip, and Jensen pushes his other hand into his own pocket, curls his fingers around the key there.

*

Chad's old enough and experienced enough by now to know that the confused look on Samantha's face should be a warning for him to proceed carefully. But then, he always has been better at giving out advice than taking it.

“See, that’s the problem with chick flicks these days,” Chad is saying as he turns Samantha in a slow circle on the dance floor, “they’re all still trying to sell this fuckin’ ridiculous Cinderella fairy tale story. I mean, what the fuck, right?”

“But…” Samantha frowns, “they lived happily ever after.”

“Right,” Chad laughs. “See, that’s what they say at the end the movie, but think about it. They dance for five minutes, say maybe twenty words to each other, her _shoe_ falls off and he subjects every fuckin’ girl in town to his obvious foot fetish until he finds her—and she marries him because, like, he can rescue her from scrubbing floors and shit, so he’s her raison d'être. No fuckin’ wonder they ended the movie _there_ , ‘cause I mean who the hell wants to see them three months later when he’s bringing home other women’s feet and she’s having an affair with the mice because at least _they_ talk to her?”

“The… mice?” Samantha asks.

“Figuratively, you know, ‘cause the whole fuckin’ movie was a metaphor.”

“Metaphor?”

“The themes are all about letting the external world control your sense of self. The mice are like, the little voices in her head telling her to believe in herself, love herself, because she’s fuckin’ awesome, right? That’s why they only show up when there’s no one around. It’s like her inner self without influence, because whenever people are there she’s got her image all wrapped up in what they think about her. But then she just goes out and finds some Prince with a kink for footjobs to make her feel like she’s worth a shit, instead. It’s like a fuckin’ tragedy.”

“Tragedy?” she echoes again, squinting at him.

“Unless you’re into the mice,” he shrugs. “Are you?” It’s a legitimate question, because if she’d rather marry the Prince and—

Her hand collides with his cheek with an impressive velocity.

Metaphorical-prince-lover. He should’ve guessed. 

Well, now he knows.

“You okay?”

The voice behind him is utterly feminine with a sultry tone that he recognizes instantly, and the second he hears it, he knows he’s been waiting for it all night. He smiles, rubbing at his cheek as he turns around.

Shit, she looks like a 40’s movie star, gorgeous and perfect in her floral print silk gown. Sass and class poured into one tiny, curvy package. 

“Hey Chad,” she smiles, that thousand watt smile that makes her whole face light up. It still makes his heart skip a beat, and he has to laugh at himself.

“Hey Sandy,” he answers, and reaches to hug her. Her arms wrap around him, hair tickling his nose with the same scent of the floral perfume she’s always worn, and shit, he still loves her, he’s always gonna love her. He could get all poetic about it and shit, but really, that’s just how it is.

“I see you’re still sweeping the girls off their feet,” she grins, fingers touching the handprint on his cheek as she pulls back.

“Social experiment,” he says, shrugging. 

“Yeah?” she laughs, corners of her eyes crinkling. “So did you get the desired outcome?”

“Depends,” he winks. “See, here I am, wearing a fuckin’ mark of shame on my face. Right about now, you should be pissed on behalf of the girl who left it there, or feeling sorry enough for me to give me a pity dance.”

“Guess,” she shoots back, still smiling.

“It’s _totally_ making you wanna dance with me. Freak,” he teases. “All right,” he sighs, like it’s burden for him as he takes her hand. “I’ll indulge your weird fuckin’ neurosis.”

“How very gracious of you,” Sandy smirks as she lets him lead her.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Hey, I’m the one helping you with your experiment, here.”

He puts his hands on her waist and spins her out onto the floor, and she laughs, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. They sway into the crowd and Sandy tells him how she went to Stanford Law just like she planned, got her degree and her license and started working at the DA’s office in Sacramento about a year ago. She always was the one with a plan.

“So are you practicing psychology?” she asks.

“Nah. Can’t sit still that fuckin’ long,” he says, and they both laugh. “Wrote a book though, you believe that shit?”

“You always said you were going to.” Sandy doesn’t seem surprised at all, and that surprises him, just a little. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t plan on writing it for the fuckin’ self-help section, you know?”

“Self-help?” Now she looks surprised. “What happened to ‘The World According to Chad’?”

“It turned into ‘This Was Not in the Instruction Manual’.”

“Oh, I like that. It’s catchy,” she smiles.

“My publisher,” he shrugs. “I wanted to call it ‘How to Get Free Beer and Hot Babes for the Rest of Your Life’, ‘cause who doesn’t want _that_ right? I see that book on a shelf, I’m totally gonna buy that shit.”

“All that charm, and you still ended up dateless tonight?” she asks with a teasing grin.

“Not seeing you having anything better to do,” he shoots back.

“Too busy at the DA’s office to have time for… a life,” she says with a laugh.

“Yeah, I been stupid busy too, but I still got you beat, babe. I’m here with Jay and Jen.”

“They’re still together? How are they?”

“Still getting it on like two crazy circus freaks hopped up on Viagra.”

“Aw, don’t make me get all teary eyed,” Sandy mocks, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You mean don’t make me embarrass you by kicking your ass in front of all these people?” She’s got that spark in her eye; the one that always means trouble.

“Been a long time, babe.” He tilts his head to the side, voice dropping suggestively. “Think you can still take me?”

She slides her hand down his left arm all the way to his hand, closes her fingers around his and squeezes tight. “Try and keep up,” she says, spinning out of his arms and pulling him along behind her. She leads him through the doors and down the hall towards the other end of the school, practically running in her high heels, like they’re kids all over again. She yanks him inside an empty bathroom and their laughter dies as he turns the lock on the door.

This isn’t how he planned things going at _all_ , but she’s looking at him like _that_ , and he’s never been much on plans, anyway.

He pushes her against the outside wall of the stall and she grabs him, yanks him in and wraps her arms around him, fingernails digging into his shoulders. Sandy’s like a powder keg when it comes to sex; she looks innocent and harmless on the outside, but the second someone strikes a match it’s all fucking over. She explodes and you just gotta hold the fuck on and pray.

He’d like to take his time, but there’s no way she’s sitting still for that shit—not when it’s like this, hands all over each other in their high school bathroom, her mouth opening wet and hot, one leg already wrapped around his waist—and well, he can roll with that.

He grabs her leg under the back of her knee, running his hand down her calf, feels her push back against the wall, hips shoving into him. Fuck, she feels good, so familiar, warm and soft and strange in his arms. He’s got a condom in his pocket—of course he does; he never goes anywhere unprepared, ‘cause you never fuckin’ know, right? Like right now, because who the hell saw this coming? 

He works his hand down between them, tugging the condom free, and she rocks against his hand with a loud moan. It takes him way too long to get his pants undone, rolling the condom on while she grinds against him, and he deserves a fucking medal for this shit—there better be a ceremony in honor of his honor after this, because Jesus fucking Christ she’s driving him crazy. 

She wraps her other leg around him, bracing her upper body against the wall, hands pulling at him, begging him with heated whispers. He thrusts into the softness between her thighs, grabbing her ass and holding her up. Hooks a thumb into her panties and tugs them aside, feeling her slick and hot against him, and tangles his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back so he can kiss her deeper, harder as he pushes inside.

She goes stiff, gasping, wriggling her hips against him, body locked tight all around him. She’s so fucking beautiful, looking up at him with those dark brown eyes, half-lidded and shaded metallic bronze. She pants hot little breaths into his mouth while he fucks her quick and hard just the way he remembers she liked it; the way they both always liked it. The world spins away and for a few minutes, it feels like it’s eight years ago and she’s everything. 

He angles his hips, pushing up from underneath, hands squeezing bruises into her thighs, and her whole body seizes, cunt squeezing him tight, teeth biting down against his chin as she comes. 

“God _dammit_ , Chad,” she hisses, head falling back against the wall, body convulsing. That ragged, broken whisper tips him over and he follows right after her, lost in the smell of her, the feel of her, the way she _tastes_. 

“That… wasn’t in the brochure…” she gasps, legs wrapped around him. Sandy’s never been any good at being awkward, and Chad doesn’t _do_ awkward. 

“Hell,” he chuckles. “That wasn’t even on the fuckin’ map.”

“There was a map?” she asks, still panting. “I didn’t get a map.”

Chad shrugs, grinning. “Wouldn’t have done us any good anyway.”

She’s quiet for a minute, catching her breath. “So where do we go now?” she asks, those wide eyes sweeping up to meet his, and damn.

He knows what she’s asking, and he knows the answer, but he’s not saying it right now. “I hear Alpha Centauri’s nice this time of year.”

“They have sushi there?” she grins, rolling with it, and he always did dig that about her. You can throw anything at Sandy and she’ll catch it and make it look like it was her idea to begin with.

“No, but they got a buncha lizard-squirrels,” he winks.

“Oh, the Douglas Adams version of Alpha Centauri,” she laughs.

“What else?” he asks as she rolls her eyes. He’s really enjoying her being here like this, but his arms are starting to complain about her full weight being on them.

“Think you can stand on your own? I mean I know I just rocked your world and shit, so I’ll understand if your knees are all weak.”

She gives him one of those little giggles that makes him feel like he just won some kind of huge prize. “I think I can manage.”

“All right, but you let me know if you need any help,” he warns her like he’s dead-serious. He pulls out and holds her up until her legs fall from around him to catch her own weight. He leaves her to do her thing and cleans up hastily with some wet paper towels in the stall, flushing the condom while Sandy runs the water in the sink. It doesn’t even occur to him that most people in his place would be panicking right about now, trying to figure out what to do next. He knows exactly what to do next.

The water shuts off and he steps out of the stall, washes his hands and then offers one to her.

“I need a smoke.”

-

They lean back against the brick of the building by the baseball field, Chad exhaling a heavy cloud into the humid night time air. Sandy’s standing next to him, shoulder pressing against his arm, and it feels good to have her there. He takes a deep drag, filling his lungs, and plucks the cigarette from his mouth. “You know if we were in a movie, this would be the part where we get back together for the happily fuckin’ ever after. Cheesy, romantic music on the soundtrack, sun shining out of our asses, the whole nine.”

“With a little tag scene at the ending of our wedding,” Sandy nods, reaching over and taking the cigarette from his hand. 

“Right? Jared as my best man, Jensen giving the misanthropic, anti-marriage version of the St. Crispin’s Day speech.” 

Sandy’s laughter sputters into choked sounds punctuated by bursts of smoke as she tries to control herself.

God, he can just _see_ it. If he ever does get married, he’s totally making Jensen do that. On videotape. 

“We few,” Chad goes on gravely in Jensen-voice, taking the cigarette and patting her gently on the back, “we happy, unmarried few.” He slides the rest of his arm around her shoulder and tips his head back, dragging hard. 

She sighs, sound slipping through him. He can feel her shoulders tighten against his arm. “Sometimes I think...”

He pulls her in tight and flicks his cigarette out into the grass, watching it bounce before it lands, orange tip disappearing into the long blades.

“Why not? We’ve got that whole sex thing working for us, and you fuckin’ adore me--for obvious reasons, and who could blame you? I’m fuckin’ awesome and you’re… well,” Chad shrugs a shoulder, “well, you’re pretty cool.” Sandy elbows him and he exhales hard and fast, expelling all the smoke from his lungs. “Okay. Yeah. You’re fuckin’ awesome too. You mostly get me, and you can roll with me like no other girl I’ve ever met. And I’m pretty sure I’m never gonna meet another girl like you.” He takes a breath of humid night air. “But we figured out years ago that this was never gonna work.”

He gets it, always has; much as they get each other, they’re different. Give them a year together full time and he’d land her in the looney bin, or she’d land him on Springer, maybe both if they hit the universal lottery. He knows how much it sucks—it sucks cock full time like it’s getting paid to do it--but that doesn’t change anything. He didn’t go into this with any illusions.

“We did,” she whispers, stilling as she looks up at him. She looks like an apology. But he doesn’t need one.

He loves her. He’s always gonna love her, and he knows she loves him too, but Sandy was made for bigger plans. That’s just the way it is.

“We were right,” he says, turning to kiss her one last time. 

It’s a weird, perfect kind of symmetry for them to kiss goodbye here, in the same place they kissed for the very first time.

Her mouth tastes sweet, and he breathes in the scent of her. 

*

“Tom? You and Steve?” Jared’s jaw drops open for a second, and it makes so much sense that it’s kind of perfect, really. “That’s awesome.”

He hugs them both and they laugh. Steve tells him all about the comedy TV show he’s been acting on for the last two years.

“Prime time Tuesday nights,” Steve goes on. “You’ve never seen it?”

“No, but we don’t watch much TV. We’re usually busy working, plus, Jensen can only stand the TV being on for about half an hour before it starts driving him crazy, unless it’s the news.”

“Jensen?” Tom and Steve ask in almost perfect unison.

It hits Jared then—they’d never known. He’d lost track of both of them after graduation. Jared opens his mouth, wondering how to explain when Jensen walks up beside him.

“Tom, good to see you,” Jensen says smoothly. “Steve,” Jensen nods, and there’s only the slightest, most subtle change in the tone of his voice as he says Steve’s name, but Jared hears it.

“Mr. Ackles,” they both start to smile just as Jensen puts his arm around Jared’s shoulders. Jared can see it in their faces, smiles flickering as the pieces fall into place.

“Holy shit, Jared,” Steve breathes. “Sorry Mr. Ackles—Jensen,” Steve stumbles over the words awkwardly. “That’s just… how long…?”

“Almost ten years now.”

The look of stunned surprise on their faces would be hysterical if they were anyone else. Then Tom’s face smoothes out and he smiles in that soft, shy way he always had. “Good for you guys.”

Steve’s still trying to put it all together. “So at prom that night… after we were dancing … when you were gonna kick his ass…”

“You were going to kick my ass?” Jensen inquires, sounding bemused.

“You were kind of being a prick,” Jared shrugs.

“It’s ‘kind of’ my default mode,” Jensen returns smoothly, voice dry, and Jared wants to lean in, kiss that smirking mouth.

But Steve’s still talking. “That’s what that was all about?” 

“Yeah,” Jared answers.

Steve nods, taking that in. “So you guys want a shot? Babe?” he asks, looking sideways at Tom through the wild tangle of his bangs.

“I’m sure shots will make this situation more socially acceptable,” Jensen mutters, and Jared covers his mouth while he nods at Steve.

Steve disappears to the bar, and Jared’s just about to ask Tom what he’s doing these days when he sees Chad pushing through the crowd of people towards them with… Sandy? For a second Jared’s just thrilled to see her—and then he sees the flush in her cheeks, the hastily finger-combed hair, the look on Chad’s face.

No. Really?

Jensen’s surprised, appraising expression says _Yes, really_ , without uttering a single word.

They were both there when Chad and Sandy broke up; they both know what he went through. But that was seven years ago, and they’ve seen lots of women come and go in Chad’s life since then. Granted, he was never as serious about any of them as he was about Sandy, but there was school, and writing, and lately the book tour, and—

Fuck. They totally should have seen this coming.

Sandy runs and flings her arms around him, and Jared picks her up, spins her around, laughing, and then sets her down next to Jensen. Sandy throws her arms around Jensen, too, and Jensen _lets_ her, smiling indulgently. Jensen always did have a soft spot for Sandy, and Jared’s never quite been able to figure out why.

Jared takes advantage of the two of them talking to whisper out the side of his mouth at Chad. “I can’t believe you haven’t even been here two hours and you already got laid.”

“Jay, Jay, Jay, don’t go getting jealous over me.” Chad’s shaking his head as he runs a hand along the brim of his hat, cocky smile on his lips as he looks over at Jared. “That’s your boyfriend’s trip.”

Sandy turns and starts talking to him animatedly, then, and they trade stories for a while before Jensen reaches over, casually resting his arm on Jared’s shoulders. Jensen’s fingers slide down his neck, inside the back of his shirt, one slipping between the skin and the slender chain there, teasing until Jared’s got goose bumps from head to toe. Jared feels his cock twitch and it takes everything he’s got to keep talking and not lean into that touch. Jensen keeps twisting the chain, and fucking Christ, Jared’s going to lose it pretty soon and start talking gibberish if Jensen doesn’t stop—not that Jared really wants him to stop. Jensen knows it, too. Knows how much it turns Jared on, Jensen playing with the proof that Jared belongs to him right here in front of everyone.

Somehow he manages to stumble through the conversation until Steve and Tom are carrying it, and then he just stands there hoping he still looks interested, dick painfully hard under the cover of his long, buttoned jacket, Jensen tightening the chain until it’s hard to breathe and then loosening it, over and over again. Jared’s relieved and desperate when Jensen pulls his hand away to let Sandy hug them goodbye all too soon.

She hugs Chad last, and Jared watches their faces, sees the happiness and the sadness in both of them. 

“I’ve got to drive back to Sacramento, I have a case early in the morning,” she says, voice pitched low, and Jared feels a little like he’s eavesdropping, but he doesn’t move. She hesitates as she pulls back, like she’s debating whether or not she’s supposed to kiss Chad goodbye. “It was good to see you, Chad.”

“Good to see you, too, babe.” Chad tips his face and kisses her on the forehead before he steps back. “Don’t die on the way home.”

She laughs, a light, delighted sound, and pushes at Chad’s shoulder affectionately. “Take care of yourself,” she tells him and then drifts off through the crowd in her movie star dress, high heels dangling from one hand.

“And so she walked out of our lives forever,” Chad says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It was never gonna work out, you know,” he goes on conversationally to Jared. “We made each other laugh, I loosened her up and she helped keep me keep my ass in line. Most people who balance each other out drive each other batshit after the first year. Same shit that attracted you is the same shit that pisses you off. We’re lucky we got three years out of it. I’m thinking the college distance actually _helped_ us in the beginning, how fuckin’ ironic is that?”

Chad’s still watching Sandy walk away, though, a sad little smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Then why…”

“Did we fuck in the bathroom like bunnies?” Chad finishes the question with knowing smile. “Old time’s sake? Closure? Because I’d have to be fuckin’ insane to say no?”

“You’re not selling me on this.”

“Jay,” Chad grabs Jared’s lapels lightly. “I got this,” he says, giving Jared one of those looks that always makes Jared stop and realize that Chad’s grown up, too. “You think I haven’t figured out by now that I’m too much for most people to handle? Hell, you and Jenny are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a relationship working out.”

“Chad…” Jared starts, voice low. Chad’s rarely this direct, even when he _does_ have feelings, and Jared’s having a hard time finding the right words.

“Stop looking at me like I’m fuckin’ dead, Jay.”Chad smacks the underside of Jared’s hat, sending it tilting up way too high in the front. “You should be so lucky. This ain’t no fuckin’ Cinderella story, there’s no such thing as Prince Charming, and I don’t need some freak with a foot fetish.”

“So you’re okay?” Jared asks, uncertain. He _sounds_ more like Chad now, but…

“’Course I’m fuckin’ okay,” Chad says, like Jared might be out of his mind. “I just got _laid_. Shit, I only came back ‘cause I was worried you and Jensen’d gotten kicked out by now for fucking on the dance floor. Can’t take you two anywhere.” 

“Good thing we’ve got you around to chaperone us,” Jensen adds, droll as he walks up.

“What I’m fuckin _sayin’_ ,” Chad says, throwing his hands up.

* 

Jensen glances at his watch and can’t believe how early it still is. Everyone seems even less sure of what they’re doing here than when they got here this evening, and they’re all looking at each other like they’re expecting to find the answer to why they’re here in their fellow former peers, but they’re well on their way to being drunk. 

“I don’t understand why people come to these things,” Jensen mutters, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

“You don’t get it? Dude.” Chad lifts his hands and lets them fall, splayed out from his body in a palms-up, ‘come on’ gesture. “They’re here ‘cause they need fuckin’ Shakabuku.” Chad says the words the same way he’d usually say ‘duh’.

“Shakabuku?” Jensen echoes, squinting at Chad.

“Yeah. Swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your life forever.” Chad’s looking at Jensen like this is supposed to mean something. Jensen glances sideways at Jared, and Jared doesn’t even look away from Chad, shrugging one shoulder in a way that clearly communicates he has no earthly idea what the hell Chad is talking about.

Par for the course, then.

“Excuse me.” A guy walks up from behind Chad, munching casually on a few potato chips held in the palm of one of his hands. He’s got classic, rugged good looks, wide blue eyes and dark brown hair, nice cheekbones and a wide, pouty, full mouth. “Are you talking about Shakubuku?” the guy asks as Chad turns towards him.

“You know it?” Chad asks.

“Of course. I teach philosophy here.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Chad grins. “I minored in philosophy.”

“Wait,” Jared interjects, frowning. “How long have you taught here?”

“‘Taught’ is a relative term,” the guy shrugs with a roguish grin, dusting his hands of potato chip salt. “But I’ve been employed here for two years.”

“So how’d you end up with reunion duty?” Jared asks.

“Oh,” the guy laughs, waving a hand at the air. “I’m not here in an _official_ capacity. I’m here for the free food, booze and inevitable drama.” He hesitates, and then leans closer to them, adding in a stage whisper, “Purely for research purposes.”

Jensen and Jared blink at the response in unison. Chad shoves his hand out at the guy, and says, “Fuckin’ A, dude. What’s your name?”

“Misha,” the guy says, taking Chad’s hand.

“I’m Chad. This is Jensen and Jared,” Chad punctuates their names with quick nods of his head at each of them. “Science types,” Chad explains, almost like an apology, and Misha tilts his head to the side, nodding in sympathetic understanding. “But maybe they’ll take the word of an _expert_. Why don’t you explain it to them, Misha?”

Misha’s face lights up and he turns toward Jared and Jensen. 

“Shakubuku. It’s a Japanese term, refers to Nichiren Buddhism.” Misha moves his hands in quick circles in front him, rubbing his fingers together. “First you have to Shakubuku yourself, come to terms with your own issues and accept the wisdom of Buddha that lives in all of us. It’s like a social disease that way; you have to have it before you can share it with other people. Then you can rip somebody else a new asshole and make them see how screwed up they are so you can pimp them the wisdom of Buddha, too. It’s a really beautiful thing,” he nods. 

Jensen’s… not sure he has words left after that explanation.

“Swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your life forever,” Chad says again and nods sagely at Jensen like Misha just proved his point. Misha’s nodding along in time, like Chad’s got it just exactly right, and Jensen’s starting to think maybe they should run.

“What’d you major in?” Misha’s intent gaze is focused on Chad now.

“Psychology.”

“And you’re pulling out the Shakubuku as the reason people are here?” Misha shakes his head, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How very anti-Freud of you.” Misha says it like he’s caught Chad doing something particularly naughty.

Chad, for his part, just smirks. “Hey, it worked for John Cusack.”

Misha’s eyes light up again, chin lifting like he’s just gotten vital information from Chad that’s celestially enlightening. “So what’s your business?” Misha asks, leaning closer, like he’s really curious.

“Professional killer,” Chad says without hesitation, and it comes out so lightly, with such a casual little shrug that for a split second Jensen’s _sure_ he couldn’t have heard him right.

Misha doesn’t even blink. “You get dental with that?” 

Chad cracks up first and Misha follows suit, and Chad adds something about it being a growth business. Jensen’s sure he’s got to be missing something, and he looks sideways at Jared. Jared’s looking right back at Jensen with wide eyes.

“You’re a handsome devil,” Misha says, and Jensen blocks out the rest of his words, feeling suddenly ill. 

“Time to go,” he tells Jared. Chad and Misha are so busy talking about things only they can understand that they don’t even notice, and Jensen is eternally grateful.

“I lead a weekend men's group. We specialize in ritual killings,” Misha says as they fall out of earshot.

“What just happened?” Jared asks, mystified.

Jensen glances back over his shoulder and takes in the sight of the two of them laughing. 

“I think it’s the first sign of the apocalypse,” Jensen murmurs.

*

Chad’s had more than couple shots with Tom, Steve and Misha before he heads outside for a smoke.

“You think Freud was bad?” Chad demands as he pushes open the door to the outside. “Dude, my best _friends_ would make your head spin like fuckin’ Linda Blair.”

“I never said it was bad,” Misha chuckles, following him through the doorway. “I just said according Freud, everything equals sex. Like right now,” Misha adds as Chad puts his shoulders against the brick wall, settling a cigarette between his lips. “Freud would say you’ve got an oral fixation. So what was it? Weaned too early or too late?”

“Freud was so full of shit he squeaked going into a turn. You wanna fuckin’ hit or what?” Chad presents the filter, extended between his thumb and forefinger.

Misha leans up against the wall next to Chad and snags the cigarette from his hand. “I quit,” he informs Chad as he sucks in a deep, long drag; expression on his face like it tastes like heaven. 

“Yeah. So when were _you_ weaned, motherfucker?” Chad asks with a smirk. 

Misha blows out a thick cloud of smoke, holds up his other hand and looks at it thoughtfully, counting off fingers. “Last week?” he asks around the filter, tip glowing bright orange as he starts to inhale again.

Chad’s still laughing as Misha pulls the cigarette from his mouth and shrugs with one shoulder. “I'm only smoking to take my mind off my dog biscuit problem.”

Chad snorts, taking the cigarette as Misha hands it back to him. “You been chasing cars lately?”

“Falling off the couch every time I try to lick my balls,” Misha agrees, looking forlorn. 

“You’re getting too old for this shit,” Chad nods, mouth curling around the end of the filter.

“Bite your tongue. I’ve got maybe five years on you.”

“We talking dog to human years or--”

The door slams open beside them, hitting the brick with a resounding thud before it springs back and almost smashes into the person who shoved it in the first place. Chad recognizes the person immediately, and sighs.

“Chad.” Rick’s eyes are glazed with alcohol, but he’s definitely pissed, teeth bared like a rocky ledge.

“Rick,” Chad nods, end of the cigarette hanging loose between his lips. “Haven’t seen you since I stole your prom date ten years ago, how the hell have you been, dude?” 

Rick growls, advancing on him, and Chad arches a brow. “Dude. You’re not still pissed about that?”

“Excuse us.” Misha pushes off the wall and turns on Chad. “You stole his prom date?”

“More like she stole me because he turned out to be such an asshole.”

“He’s big enough to be a professional linebacker.” Misha hisses the words through a clenched jaw.

“In case you missed it; he was an asshole,” Chad reiterates. 

“You’re a psychologist. Aren’t you supposed to forgive him all his trespasses or some shit?”

“Just because someone’s got issues doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to get punched in the face every now and then.”

The only reason Misha stops laughing is because Rick pushes between them, breathing the harsh scent of rum right into both of their faces.

“It’ll be like therapy,” Chad adds, shrugging as he meets Misha’s eyes.

Misha gives him an, _Oh, my child, you have so much to learn_ roll of his eyes, and that’s not a look Chad’s used to seeing, but before he can say anything, Misha’s turning around and wedging himself between Rick and Chad.

“You, my friend, need to meet your insect reflection,” Misha says, pointing at Rick thoughtfully.

Rick stares at him. “What’d you just say to me?”

“I’d explain,” Misha insists, clapping Rick on the back with short, sharp slap. “But then I’d be debasing myself and denigrating you and a bunch of other ‘D’ words and come on, Rick. Nobody wants that.” Misha looks at him with imploring eyes so serious that they skewer through obvious sarcasm into Zen and back out the other side. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Defining deficiency,” Misha says nodding at Rick like Rick’s proving his point. 

“Think you’re smart, dontcha?”

“Well of course I am,” Misha agrees. “But _your_ ancestors figured out how to beat their chests and climb trees.” Misha’s doing things with sarcasm that Chad’s not sure he’s ever actually witnessed before—that he wasn’t even sure were _possible_. “There’s nothing more formidable and frightening than that. All mine figured out was how to make fire and friends and fuchsia,” Misha shrugs with aplomb, mock-dismissive as he waves a hand through the air. “Oh, I’ve moved on to ‘F’ words, by the way--purely a defensive tactic.”

Rick squints at Misha suspiciously and Chad almost chokes on his cigarette smoke. 

“What else can I do? You’re clearly physically superior to me. You could smear me into the pavement with a swat of your hand. It’d be easy,” Misha says, affecting humility. “And I ask you, my gigantic friend, where is the victory in that? All you’d have done is prove you can do exactly what everyone already knows you can, and a real man doesn’t need to prove anything.”

Misha steps back, settling his hand more firmly on Rick’s shoulder. “You don’t need to prove anything, do you Rick?” 

“Hell no.” They’re only two words, but Rick manages to slur them to the edge of pure fuckery and back again

“Of course you don’t.” Misha nods as he claps Rick on the shoulder, face so melodramatically grave that Chad wants to crack up. Misha holds the position for a moment and then steps back, smiling wide. “So we’ll catch you later for kamikazes, then?”

Rick doesn’t slur the word ‘kamikaze’ so much as he howls it like he’s the fucking wolf-man, hand slapping Misha’s upturned palm.

Okay. This guy can fuckin’ _stay_ , because that? Was fucking _classic_.

Rick staggers back off to the school and Chad tosses his cigarette to the sidewalk, grinding out the tip, turning his heel back and forth. “You didn’t make him cry.”

Misha tilts his head to the side, lips pursing regretfully. “I thought that might be overdoing it.”

*

Jared’s already had a couple of drinks tonight and he’s got another one fresh in his hand as he turns away from the bar to find Riley Marcus standing there. Riley Marcus, former high school quarterback, one inch shorter than Jared and just as wide through the chest and shoulders. He looks even _bigger_ than he’d been in high school, ripped underneath his suit, biceps bulging against the material until it looks like it’s straining as he holds out his hand in greeting. 

“Jared Padalecki. Been a long time.”

“Riley, good to see you, man.” He hadn’t known Riley very well, kind of peripherally through sports. Mostly, Jared remembers how his ass looked when he bent over in his skin-tight football pants.

Jared settles in to have the requisite chat about what they’ve been doing for the past ten years, and Riley follows suit, both of them leaning back against the bar. Jensen’s not too far away across the crowd, talking to a teacher who takes a few moments for Jared to place as Mr. Kinnley, biology ninth grade.

“So,” Riley says into the momentary silence, shoulder brushing against Jared’s as he leans a little closer, blue eyes sweeping up Jared’s body to meet his eyes. “How’ve _you_ been?”

The message couldn’t be any clearer, and Jared glances away, finding Jensen through the crowd. Jensen’s staring right at him, eyes heavy and hooded, his expression intent as he watches. Mr. Kinnley is still talking, laughing at one of his own jokes, but Jensen’s attention is fixed on Jared, dark green and singular, like he’s the only thing that exists.

Normally he wouldn’t need to ask, but he’s feeling off balance tonight, still doesn’t know why Jensen came here, isn’t sure how Jensen feels about any of this. Jared’s fingers climb to his throat, working under the tight collar until he feels the chain under his fingertips, feels the courage that it gives him, and he raises his brows at Jensen just a fraction.

Jensen’s eyes flicker to Riley for a split second, and then he looks at Jared almost expectantly, like he’s waiting.

Jared unbuttons his jacket, feeling Jensen’s eyes all over him as he looks back to Riley, dark and sharp, scrutinizing his every movement as he talks. He can feel Jensen watching his face, then his hand as he brushes Riley’s sleeve with the side of his hand, leaning in closer as he laughs. He lets his fingertips slide down the chain until they close around the tiny lock charm and pulls it free, twisting it back forth, chain tightening and loosening, feeling Jensen _there_ , too. 

He lets his shoulder push into Riley’s just a little, resting his weight back on his elbows as he lets his hips jut forward. He tracks the motion of Riley’s eyes sliding down his body as he keeps talking, knows Riley isn’t hearing a word he’s saying as he bends one knee, lifting and letting it fold over the other, ankles crossed. He’s practically splayed against the bar, whole body on display as he makes another joke, laughing, head tilting away to let his hair fall into his face.

He glances up through his bangs and sees Jensen watching him with a look like _hunger_ , eyes ravenous and swirling like storms. His shoulders are taut, hands pushed into his pockets where Jared knows they’re making fists, whole body straining on the edge of anger and want and _ownership_. He loves the way this winds Jensen up, loves the way it turns him on and drives him crazy to see Jared flaunt himself like this. 

Jared angles his face towards Riley’s, looking up through his lashes from his lower vantage point, fingers twisting the charm hard, and he wishes the chain was long enough that he could suck the lock into his mouth, let it roll around on his tongue while he looks at Riley like this--showing off and showing who he belongs to at the same time. Just the thought of what that would do to Jensen sends his blood pumping, sparks shooting all through him, heat coiling low in his belly as his cock hardens. He shifts his hips just a bit, lets his dick strain at the seam of his zipper and then turns his weight to the side so it falls against the crease of his inner thigh. 

“Physics engineering sounds fascinating,” Riley says, eyes riveted on the movement of Jared’s hips. “But I’m…” his eyes rake slowly up Jared’s body, traveling over the outline of muscle to his face, “more of a ‘hands on’ kind of guy.”

“Nothing like getting your hands dirty,” Jared says and smiles.

*

Jared was born to show off, made for it. It’s so natural; the coy looks, the barest brushes of contact, the way he angles his body like an invitation. He plays temptation like an art form, has from the first day Jensen laid eyes on him. Jensen _loves_ to watch him show off, and he loves to ‘punish’ Jared for it even more.

Ten years, and he knows he’s never going to be able to stop this feeling; the jealousy rushing hot and hard through his veins, the pounding of his heart inside his head, the insistence that he needs to go over there right the hell now and grab Jared, kiss him and fuck him into the bar, make his claim clear. He knows this feeling isn’t real, knows that the last thing he ever needs to worry about is Jared wanting anyone else. Logically, deeply, he knows this; but he can’t stop the whiplash of emotion that shoots through him at the idea of anyone else putting their hands on Jared.

Part of Jensen wants to kill him, whoever this guy is; the way he’s leaning over Jared’s shoulder, predatory and looking him up and down. Jensen wants to make him die in the most painful possible way, wants to kill him bloody and then fuck Jared raw, hear Jared’s voice cracked and begging for Jensen. And still, he knows, all of this is for him; Jared putting himself on display, showing off for Jensen just to spark this feeling inside him. 

This is just another game they play sometimes, one that tugs at the edges of Jensen’s control. It’s Jensen’s most illogical fear played out in front of him in complete safety, and crazy as it makes him it’s incredibly _hot_ too. The way this guy wants to strip Jared naked and put his hands all over Jared, the things he’d like to do to Jared written so clearly on his face, in his eyes. Jensen can imagine it all too easily, nails digging into his palms, cock hardening.

He watches as the guy puts his arm on the bar, forearm resting just behind Jared. He can’t deny it. It’s thrilling, riding this edge between emotion and logic, heart racing even while part of him is amused by the way Jared’s looking up at the guy. God, he’s beautiful, his long, chiseled body inside that damask silk suit. His eyes, the hair falling across his cheek, full pink mouth. It’s no wonder the guy across from him is practically drooling. He’s playing it mostly cool, but Jensen can see it in him, the way he’s leaning in, his eyes hungry and glued to Jared’s body when he’s not watching Jared’s mouth move.

The music filling the gym changes then, rolling into a heavy, sexy drumbeat. The rhythm of the crowd on the dance floor takes a moment to catch up with the beat, hips swaying, hands sliding lower. 

Jensen excuses himself from Mr. Kinnley’s presence, moving across the room to the bar. He walks up, eyes locked on Jared’s as he grabs Jared by the wrist and pulls him to his feet, bodies close together, mouths almost touching, bodies swaying together sinuously as Jensen leads them backwards towards the dance floor.  
*

Jensen is like pure sex as he tugs Jared to the dance floor, eyes burning into Jared’s, searing him, his body so close, hips bumping Jared’s teasingly, rocking into the hard ache of Jared’s cock and then away until they reach the dance floor.

Jensen pulls Jared in, hands settling on his hips as they rock side to side in perfect time, slow circle, Jensen’s hips moving forward, Jared’s moving back, bodies only inches apart, not quite touching. Jared lets Jensen lead his hips in a sway and lets his hands rest low on Jensen’s waist, palming the jut of his hip bone. Jensen’s stomach rolls, shoulders moving in time with the drum beat, hips a steady, slower roll in time with the rhythm, and his eyes are mesmerizing, filled with heat as Jared stares down at him. The gaze is heavy, molten, and Jensen moves with liquid grace, leading Jared forward with slow steps, heels turning in time. There are bodies all around them, but the world seems far away, all his senses filled with Jensen. 

Jensen’s hand slides around his hip and grabs him tight, other hand coming up to push at Jared’s shoulder as he leans him backward, Jensen’s body following the flow, hips rocking into Jared as he pulls Jared in tight, staring into Jared so deep and intense that Jared feels it all the way to his bones. It’s insanely sexy, on the edge of dirty it’s so fucking hot, and he can feel everyone’s eyes on them, bodies pausing at the edge of his vision. Jensen rolls his hips into Jared again, tiny smile curving his mouth, and then Jensen pulls Jared forward, bodies jolting together, pressed chest to thigh before Jensen turns them halfway around, drawing back and pulling Jared into motion again.

God, Jensen’s totally showing off—showing off Jared, those hands tight and possessive all over him, telling the world how Jared belongs to him with every movement, every touch. The thought sends Jared’s heart hammering in his chest, letting Jensen move him where he wants him, feet flowing to follow. Christ, Jensen’s amazingly fucking hot, so confident and in control, so goddamned _on_. At the edges of his vision, Jared notices that most of the crowd around them has stopped moving, rainbow colored light catching their frozen faces as they stare. 

Jensen stills their movement and leans into Jared, moving their hips together in a figure eight, one hand pressing against the small of Jared’s back. Jared has to bend his knees, fall back a little to follow the move, staring into Jensen’s eyes dead on, and then Jensen pulls him up straight, one hand sliding down Jared’s back, other grabbing his hip and spinning him out. Jared turns in a quick, fluid circle, ending to face Jensen, and Jensen reaches out, grabs Jared’s tie and yanks him in close enough to kiss. Jared’s breathless, heart pounding, and Jensen just looks at him, chin rising and then tilting back to regard Jared for a split second before he spins Jared out again, then yanks him back, chests hitting hard, bodies stilling as they collide, both of them breathing heavy, eyes burning holes into each other as the beat stops. 

Jared notices the people around them still aren’t moving, and he wonders if they stopped the whole dance floor. He’s thrilled at the thought and he couldn’t care less, because God, the way Jensen’s _looking_ at him. 

The next song kicks in, and Jensen grabs Jared’s hand, spins him one last time, leading him off the dance floor through the crowd of staring eyes.

*

“They always like that?” Misha asks, nodding at the dance floor.

Chad follows the line of Misha’s stare and sees Jared and Jensen dancing in the middle of the floor, crowd stilled all around them.

“Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze?” Chad asks, shrugging as he reaches for the popcorn bowl. “Ten years, you’d think they’d be all fucked out by now, right? But nah. They’re like two dogs stuck together, except you could take a fuckin’ fire hose to ‘em and they still wouldn’t stop.”

Misha pauses, staring appreciatively and a little more lewdly at them. “Where do I sign up for that?”

“The All Gay, All Kinky, All Fucking All the Time Lifestyle? First, you gotta be gay,” Chad says, and tosses popcorn into his mouth.

Misha turns his face to look at Chad as he leans back against the table, thumbing at his chin. His eyes are almost innocent, blinking deliberately as he asks, “Completely gay?”

*  
“Where are we going?” Jared laughs as Jensen pushes through the double doors to the main hallway of the school.

Jensen doesn’t answer, but he lets go of Jared’s hand as they approach one of the side hallways—one Jared knows as intimately as the back of his own hand. Jensen turns on his heel, moving down the corridor without a word. Jared feels a weird sense of déjà-vu creep over him, remembering prom night when he’d followed Jensen almost exactly like this, right to the classroom. The vague worry that’s been nagging him all night suddenly rises up and swallows him, his throat going dry.

Jensen stops outside the old physics classroom, and Jared walks around to the other side of the doorway so he can see Jensen’s face. Jensen’s got his hands in his pockets, shoulder leaning against the door as he looks up at Jared. 

“I was thinking earlier tonight about the reasons people come to these events,” he says, eyes thoughtful. “Number two on the list was reliving the glory days that you can never get back, because they’re better than what you have now.”

Jared curls his lower lip under his teeth, trying to consider what Jensen is saying. But after all that, the way Jensen was looking at him, the way they were dancing… the way they _are_ every single day, what he thinks Jensen is trying to say doesn’t make any sense. 

“You’re not telling me that you think that’s why we came here tonight?” Jared asks, hands slipping into his pockets.

“No.” Jensen curls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes tightening just a fraction as he considers, lines crinkling at the corners. “We’re not here because those days were better,” Jensen assures him, hand reaching to stroke the line of Jared’s jaw. “But we’re…” Jensen says, hand falling away as he reaches into his pocket, pulling something free, “definitely here…” key fitting into the lock, one hand turning it as the other turns the knob, “to relive them,” he ends, shoving the door open.

The smirk he gives Jared is so wicked that Jared feels his knees give, stomach turning upside down, blood in his veins suddenly so light that he feels like he’s going to fly away.

“Oh my _God_ , Jensen,” he breathes in disbelief. “You still have the _key_?”

Jensen pulls the key from the lock, arching a brow at Jared from under the brim of his hat.

“Do you _ever_ throw anything away?” Jared demands, still floored, everything that’s about to happen finally hitting him.

Jensen reaches up, fingers sliding loosely over Jared’s tie as he pulls on it, straightening the length, those eyes burning into him. “Only things that won’t ever be useful again,” he says, fingers closing around the end of Jared’s tie and yanking him into the room.

Jensen’s back hits the door, Jared stumbling forward, and then back, shoulders slamming into the wall next to the door frame, Jensen’s weight shoving into him as the door falls closed behind them. 

“You asshole,” Jared whispers vehemently, hips shoving into Jensen’s. “I thought you were upset.”

“You didn’t really think I came here because I’m incredibly noble and altruistic, did you?” Jensen asks, biting at Jared’s mouth.

Jared laughs, can’t help it—because no, he really didn’t, but Jesus Christ, never in a million years would he have guessed _this_ was why Jensen wanted to come. He chuckles into Jensen, pretending to sigh as he shakes his head. “You never take me anywhere new.”

“Oh,” Jensen says with promise, “I think you’ll find a new appreciation for being here by the time I’m done with you.”

“It’s been ten years, Jensen. What’re you gonna show me that I haven’t already seen?” Jared teases, grinning, hands closing around Jensen’s hips, sliding to the small of his back.

Jensen runs his hands down Jared’s lapels, fingertips tracing out the lines. “Jared,” he says with a thin smile. “Get your fucking ass on the desk. Now.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Jensen shoves away from Jared roughly, Jared’s shoulders hitting the wall again. Click of a switch, and the lights flicker on, key turning in the lock. 

God, they’re really going to do this. Here, in this room where it all started and never stopped, where he fell in love with Jensen and had the first taste of the most insanely hot sex of his life.

Jared pushes away from the wall, hands falling to the buttons on his clothes out of years of instinct. He’s good enough at it by this point that he can risk glances at Jensen through his bangs while he works.

Jensen is walking towards the desk as he pulls the hat from his head, holding the top in the palm of his hand as he draws it away and tucks the key back into his pocket. The hat lands on the edge of the desk as Jared pulls off his shoes, just beginning to peel away his pants. 

He yanks at his tie, cursing the knot silently for a moment before it gives, then tugs it free, letting it slither to the floor. His jacket and shirt follow next, boxers pushed down last.

The air in the room is just as cold as he remembers, and he’s just as hard and naked as he remembers usually being in this room. He’s so ready and he really, _really_ just wants to get his ass on the desk—but this is the room where he learned his first lesson about being responsible for his clothing, and it’s not a lesson he’s been allowed to forget over the years. He picks his clothes up from the floor, folding them carefully one at a time and setting them aside on the nearest student desk. He watches Jensen while he does it, cock straining against the air.

Jensen is taking off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the teacher’s chair just like he always did before. Jensen sits down in the chair like he’s in no hurry at all, unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt, fingers rolling up the ends in careful, neat folds to the elbows, eyes intent on his work and not watching Jared at all.

 _Fuck_. Jared bites at the inside of his jaw and wonders how that can be so fucking _hot_. 

Everything about the room is so familiar, so intimate. The smell of it, the feel of the tile under his bare feet, the temperature of the air against his skin. The desk two seats back, where he used to sit and watch Jensen move, trying so hard to glean some kind of elusive insight, imagining the naked body under the perfectly fitted suit. Filing papers at that desk on another sunlit afternoon, the first time he’d kissed Jensen—and Jensen had kissed him back, shoved him against the file cabinet

He swallows hard, laying the length of his tie on top of his folded suit, and walks, bare feet scuffling against the tile, until he’s standing in front of the desk.

Jensen’s leafing through a stack of papers on the desk like he’s completely engrossed in whatever’s written on them, and it brings back a surge of memory like yesterday, golden sunlight filtering in through the blinds, falling across the angles of Jensen’s face, glinting along the edge of his glasses. 

_Jensen runs a finger along the line of his jaw, light chasing after the dark shape of his hand, eyes focused on the sheaf of papers he’s holding. He sets them on the desk and picks up a pen between his fingers, writing a neat, concise note on the top sheet in bright red ink._

_The air is cold against Jared’s skin, unnatural chill of air-conditioned air raising the tiny hairs all over his body, arms and legs rushing with the sensation. His cheeks are hot, filled with a blush of embarrassment for how hard his cock is—he’s hard as a rock, just thinking about what’s coming next, and he can barely stand it, stripped and on display for Jensen’s pleasure. He wants to lean forward, lay his hands on the polished wood of Jensen’s desk, ask Jensen what the fuck he’s doing grading papers when Jared’s standing here like this, so ready for him. He wants to… but he won’t. Won’t give Jensen the satisfaction._

God, he’d been so young. He’d had no idea that waiting and being made to wait was a pleasure all in itself.

The desk is well organized, everything tall and bulky pushed to the edges, and Jared climbs over the pen holder carefully, knee just barely avoiding the stapler, skin grazing the teeth of the tape dispenser. He manages to settle his weight across the wood face down, and the only thing in his way is the stack of manila folders rising up from near the center of the desk, edges riding low along his belly, high against his thighs. Christ, his fucking dick is pressed against them, and someone’s going to have to read what’s inside, touch this folder on Monday. The thought shouldn’t be nearly hot as it is, shouldn’t make his cock twitch, beading with pre-come. That stain is going to be there, too, and the realization makes him blush, heat rising to his cheeks as his dick twitches again.

He can’t believe he’s here, in this room, the familiar sound of Jensen ruffling through paper as he lies here, naked and ready and wanting. It could be the same desk; same size and shape as the one he’d first draped himself across so many years ago, Jensen writing words along the curve of his back. The same desk where Jensen had touched him, played with him, bent him over and beat his ass stinging red with a ruler before he fucked him, thick, gravelly voice in his ear telling him to make himself come while Jensen watched. 

The memories alone are enough to make him desperately hard, but the feeling of the wood underneath him, the scent of paper and pencils and chalk dust heavy in the air, the creak of the teacher’s chair as Jensen shifts his weight, it’s all making him _crazy_. He bites his lower lip and waits, watching the flex and play of Jensen’s muscles inside his button down shirt through bang-covered eyes. Memories hit Jared one after the other, each one etched permanently deep; every single detail, color, word, sensation, returning to him so completely it’s almost as if it happened yesterday. The times he’d sat at his desk and stood here wondering if Jensen really gave a damn about him at all; the times when he’d lain on this desk or caught the barest flash of something in those eyes and _felt_ , somehow, that Jensen did. 

Jensen finally sets the stack of papers neatly at the bottom corner of the desk. He settles all the objects in his way to the edges with a careful precision that Jared can hear more than see, and then slides his hand under Jared’s stomach with a slow curl of fingers, scrape of skin and nails easing the folders out, sleek pull of thick manila dragging across the underside of his cock. Tease of sensation that sets him on fire, makes his stomach turn over, teeth digging hard into his lower lip as he hisses in a breath.

Jensen stands up, fingers trailing down the ridge of Jared’s spine with the barest of touches, ending at the base and tracing a slow, delicious circle. Trailing down between his cheeks, tip just pressing against the hole. Warm weight, Jensen’s chest holding him down, mouth opening hot and wet against the back of Jared’s neck. Jensen’s hand glides back up his body in a smooth motion, dragging around the curve of his neck, up under his jaw, two fingertips pressing hard against his lower lip and then shoving between. Jared moans, sucking Jensen’s fingers to the second knuckle, tongue swirling around skin and bone, catching against the blunt edge of Jensen’s nails. 

“Do you remember the first time you got on this desk? You spread your legs for me like you couldn’t fucking _wait_ , Jared.” Jensen’s voice is so deep and throaty that it’s almost sinful, shivering inside Jared’s brain and short circuiting anything like thought. 

Jensen draws his fingers free, and Jared’s lips give way with a faint pop. “You still can’t wait.” Warm lips, mouthing words against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “So…” lazy, wet fingers tracing around the rim, “fucking…” teeth closing over the shell of his ear, “ _greedy_ for it,” fingers thrusting inside and Jared’s eyes go wide, lungs gasping for air as Jensen fills him suddenly and completely, buried to the third knuckle. Fucking Christ, it feels so good; no burn or sting, just pure pleasure singing all through him, cock jerking violently against his belly, sharp need coiling in his gut.

“Showing off like that tonight, Jared.” Jensen’s voice is a dark sinuous whisper, hand twisting around, fingers stretching and spinning inside Jared, hitting that sweet spot inside him, rubbing with his fingertips. Jared’s brain spins just as hard and fast as the motion, struggling to keep up with what’s happening. “Teasing him with that hot fucking body just to wind him up.” Jensen winds a fingertip in the necklace, and Jared feels his throat tighten, close against the pressure, sensation hardwired right to his dick. “I should _let_ him fuck you, Jared.” Jensen’s voice is raw and dirty, fingers twining tighter, platinum chain digging into his skin. “Hold you down and let him fuck your tight little ass raw while I watch.” 

_Jesus Fucking Christ_. The words rip through Jared like an explosion, useless sound caught behind the chain around his throat, fingers clutching at air as they close into helpless fists, the _idea_ driving him right to the edge, cock straining, uselessly against the desk. 

“Not that I’d have to hold you down.” Curling fingers deep inside him, leaving him strung out and senseless, muscles in his thighs twitching mindlessly with pleasure. “I know how much you love to show off, Jared. Know how much you love being fucked.” Jensen’s voice is close, gritty and full of sex, trembling with the slightest undercurrent of anger. “You’d spread your legs and let him fuck you and love every second of it. You’d give us such a show, wouldn’t you?” Jensen’s fingers close at the top of Jared’s skull, grabbing thick strands of Jared’s hair between his fingers and yanking Jared’s face off the desk. Sharp twist and Jared’s staring breathlessly into those intense eyes, flecks of gold burning like fire caught inside dark green. 

“God yes,” Jared pants out the words, twisting his head harder into Jensen’s grip and lifting his chin, exposing his throat. Jensen stares at him for a long moment, and then his fingers unfurl from Jared’s hair, palm of his hand pushing Jared’s face back down against the desk.

“Such a fucking tease.” Jensen’s fingers, caressing the back of his head, almost affectionate, understanding. “All this time, and I still have to teach you discipline.” Voice smooth and indulgent, and Jensen’s fingers twist and plunge inside him, riding over the sweet spot and curling, leaving him shaking and breathless. 

“I told you a long time ago what happens to teases, didn’t I Jared?”

Jared bites down against the sound of Jensen’s voice, inner muscles squeezing tight around Jensen’s fingers as he stops himself from rocking his hips against the desk, letting his cock drag against the polished wood. 

“But that’s never stopped you, has it?” Jensen sounds like he’s weighing the words, fingers pumping and twisting inside Jared’s body so hard and good that Jared’s toes curl into empty air, teeth grinding together. “I think,” Jensen whispers, leaning close again, “you need a new lesson in self-control.”

“God, yes, please,” Jared begs through clenched teeth, ass lifting, spine arching just a fraction against the feel of Jensen inside him. 

Jensen chuckles, chest rumbling against Jared’s back, dark and self-indulgent, teeth grazing the dip between the muscles at the base of his neck.

“Turn over.”

Jensen practically purrs the command into his ear, and Jared’s heart skips a beat, every single muscle in his body freezing for an instant as he tries to make sense of the words. And then his heart takes off thundering, unsteady rhythm thumping against his ribs in anticipation and something else he hasn’t felt in a long, _long_ time. There are certain rules in this room, and Jensen’s command breaks every single one of them. 

Jensen leaves his fingers inside of Jared, makes Jared have to move awkwardly, legs rotating around Jensen’s forearm as he moves—and fuck, the motion tightens the muscles and nerves in his torso, squeezing tight around Jensen, the involuntary reaction shooting shivers of pleasure up through the base of his spine, spiking along the length. 

Jensen’s standing over him, crisp in his white shirt and black tie, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose. He so planned this, Jesus Christ. Jared feels like he’s about to lose it just at that thought. 

Jensen runs a slow fingertip up the center of Jared’s cock, skin dragging back and forth against the vein in a zigzag pattern that drives all the breath out of Jared’s lungs in a rush. He’s so fucking hard, flushed with blood, every nerve standing on end and dancing under Jensen’s touch. Jensen always makes him feel like this, every goddamned time, but it’s different here, spread out across this desk, feet hanging in empty air, edge of the desk cutting against the jut of bone at the back of his skull. 

Christ he feels like a teenager all over again, belly swooping low and then high as Jensen looks down at him through those glasses, eyes so clear and sharp. Tug and pull, Jensen’s fingers leaving his body, and Jared holds back the sound of protest he wants to make, feeling suddenly empty. Jensen is standing up straight now, not looking at Jared as he reaches into his pants pocket, motion so casual as he feels around and then pulls something out.

For a second, Jared can’t make sense of the limp, blue shape dangling from Jensen’s hand, and then Jensen rolls the malleable material apart with his hand, letting one piece fall against Jared’s stomach. Eyes fixed on his work as he straightens what’s still left in his hand, fingers stretching it open and then rolling, pushing it onto his other hand. Thin blue stretches to cover Jensen’s fingers , rubber hugging like a second skin as he rolls the rest over the width of his palm, down his wrist. Jared feels his breath catch and seize, whole body suddenly alive, every last nerve ending pulsing once with the image. Gloves. Rubber gloves; the kind he’s seen Jensen use for cleaning the kitchen, the bathroom, handling sterile specimens in the lab. Sterile work gloves _here_ , like _this_. Jesus motherfucking Christ. Jared feels his brain hit the back of his skull, feels his cock surge and lift from his belly before it falls back down against the muscle, hot drip of pre-come wetting his stomach.

Jensen reaches down with his bare hand, taps the head of Jared’s dick almost absently, telling him silently to behave. Jared swallows hard, and God, he can’t get a grip any more than he can imagine a single thing Jensen plans to do with those. It’s crazy fucking hot, Jensen wearing sterile gloves like a doctor about to perform some kind of procedure, and it’s a little scary, too; the only people who have touched him while wearing these gloves haven’t been out to do anything pleasurable to him. But that’s conditioning, association, and this is _Jensen_ , and he has to admit that mixing the two is making him so hard he feels like he could cut diamonds with his dick. He’s already panting in anticipation, eager for whatever Jensen’s about to do.

But Jensen, Jensen’s taking his sweet time, dragging it out and driving Jared even more crazy, bare hand sliding up the line of buttons on his white shirt, under the tie, loosening the knot. He turns then, reaching for the jacket on the back of the chair, does something just out of Jared’s line of vision, and if Jared could crane his neck just an inch, let his face turn to the left until his cheek touched the desk, he could see. But he doesn’t, won’t. This is the very room where he learned to be patient and let Jensen give him everything.

Jensen lifts a small wooden box into Jared’s line of sight, holding it above Jared’s body, eyes focused intently on it. It’s maybe four inches long, not very wide, and Jared’s never seen it before. Jared swallows hard, stomach filled with sudden vertigo like it can’t tell which way is up or down, and he doesn’t have the slightest clue of what’s coming next.

Hard, smooth wood settling against the muscles of his stomach, just the slightest pressure and weight, smooth flow of Jensen’s fingers tracing the edges. He can feel more than he can see Jensen opening the box, lid tipping back to rest against him. And then Jensen’s pulling the other glove onto his bare hand, snap of the rubber ring against his wrist as he yanks it into place and lets go. Jensen looks at his own hands for a moment, fingers flexing, and then reaches for the box. Jared can feel the weight of it shift against him as Jensen pulls something out, and then there’s the sound of foil being torn open. The sound immediately makes Jared think of condoms, and it’s almost funny that after all these years of not using condoms that it’s the first thing he thinks of. The thought dissolves as cold slick touches the head of his cock, drops falling wet on the very tip, and he hisses, whole body drawn up tight as he shivers.

He closes his eyes, tries to let the feeling of what Jensen’s doing guide him. But Jensen stops then, lifting something else from the box, and he opens his eyes again.

Jensen is lifting his hands, tiny, tiny steel rod caught between his fingers, eyes dark as he looks it over. Light gleams between Jensen’s thumb and forefinger, and Jensen lets his eyes caress the length, inspecting it as he holds it up to the fluorescents.

For the first time, Jared thinks maybe he has an idea where this is going. “Jensen.” The sound escapes him without him meaning for it to, strangled, helpless whisper.

Jensen bends down then, slender rod caught between the thumb and forefinger of one hand as he holds it close for Jared to see, breath hot against Jared’s chin. 

“I‘m going to put this inside your cock,” Jensen tells him, voice like dark, rough silk as he leans in, bites at Jared’s lower lip. “One this short won’t give you the full effect,” Jensen breathes, almost like he’s apologizing. “But it’s going to feel so good…” words whispered heatedly, eyes locking with Jared’s, “that you’re going to beg me for more.”

He’d been teasing when he’d asked if Jensen had anything new to show him after ten years. Jesus fuck. The idea is scary, belly curling up and clenching. But it’s not just fear; it’s anticipation too, coiling in every muscle, tingling in every nerve ending. 

Fuck, there’s something just as heady about the fear as there is about the idea of the possible pleasure. And he’s sure there’s pleasure involved; Jensen wouldn’t do this if there weren’t. He _knows_ Jensen would never do anything to hurt him. He _knows_. But…

Jensen’s chin rubs against Jared’s, smooth skin and hint of stubble, kisses him, soft and gentle, tongue running along the line of his lower lip. “Jared,” he whispers, syllables breathed into Jared’s mouth, filling him with sound and sensation, so much love wrapped around the word that Jared can _feel_ it. “Trust me.”

“I do.” The words leave him effortlessly, instinct as much as truth as he lifts his head from the desk, lips pressing against Jensen’s in a chaste kiss, lingering before he draws back, meets those intense eyes. “Know I do.” 

“Which is why I know you’re going to do exactly what I say.” Jensen’s mouth drags wet along the line of his jaw, under his chin, up the line of his throat, tongue tracing sleek along his pulse, flickering at the joint of jaw and ear, slow spiral upward. “This is a lesson in discipline, Jared,” Jensen whispers, words hot and barely breathed against the curve of Jared’s ear, one rubber fingertip sliding up the center of Jared’s stomach, dragging skin behind it. “I want your cock soft when I push this in. And I’m not going to touch you again…” Jensen’s fingers leave his body, lips mouthing at Jared’s ear with a sharp, smiling nip of teeth, “until you are.”

The words hit Jared like a punch to the gut, and fucking wait, _what_? Jensen’s not going to touch him unless he… _what_?

Seriously?

Jensen wants him to be on this desk, naked like this, Jensen standing over him like he always used to, and NOT be hard? It’s fucking _Pavlovian_. He’s been trained with Jensen’s hands, his mouth, his husky, gritty voice whispering filth and kissing him so sweetly. Jared’s been _conditioned_ to be hard for Jensen… and now Jensen wants him not to be?

He can see the cool glint in Jensen’s eyes, faint arrogance and amusement as he sizes Jared up, and as good as Jensen is at schooling his expressions, Jared knows him way too well after ten years not to know that Jensen’s enjoying the hell out of this. It’s a challenge, and Jared knows he should be enjoying it to, but he’s never been anything _but_ hard with Jensen. Jensen’s asking him for something that’s virtually impossible.

Jared bites down hard against the inside of his cheek, tongue catching between the sharp grooves of his teeth as he breathes deep, lungs expanding against his ribs. He can do this. He _will_ do this. It’s been a long, _long_ time since Jensen asked Jared for anything Jared didn’t know how to give, and he’s not about to go back now. Not even if he isn’t sure about the idea of a metal rod inside his cock. 

A rush of heat hits his belly at the thought, turning him inside out with nervous want. He _trusts_ Jensen, he _does_. 

Jensen’s lifting something else out of the box, smooth rubber catching the light across the back of his hand, and all Jared can think about is those gloved fingers sliding inside him, rubber slick and smooth, so much smoother than skin, slippery twist and turn of knuckles, fingers curling and pushing into—

Dammit. Jared sinks his teeth deeper into the sleek skin, tongue pushing it back against the hard enamel, increasing the pressure, the pain, using it to focus. He forces his thoughts away from his cock, feels the comfort of the chain around his neck, the bracelet around his wrist, Jensen still touching him, without hands. Gritted teeth releasing as he breathes in and out, letting the tension drain from his muscles, fingers settling and resettling against the polished wood. He focuses on his breathing, tries to let himself slide into the calm headspace he always finds when they do things like this. He struggles for long moments, feeling hovering just out of reach, cock relenting halfway for his effort before he sighs, biting down against his own lower lip, eyes fluttering open.

Jensen is… feeding a packet of lube into… something long, clear and cylindrical that Jared can’t make sense of right away. Then the image snaps and his brain kicks, and _Oh, GOD_ \--it’s a _syringe_. There’s a fucking _syringe_ involved in this?

“There’s no needle.” Jensen voice is quiet and self-assured, as measured and steady as his hands as he works, and it cuts right through Jared’s fright, smoothes the ragged edges even though Jensen isn’t paying the slightest attention to Jared outside of the words he just spoke—could have just as well been speaking to the syringe. Jared wants to focus on Jensen’s indifferent face, maybe let it get under his skin like it used to so long ago, because maybe that would help… but instead he watches the tube fill with clear, thick liquid and swallows hard. 

He’s not entirely sure what Jensen intends to do with it, and that’s… as exciting as it is nerve wracking. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this; like a teenager all over again, never knowing what was coming next. It’s exhilarating, adrenaline and desire coursing through him, and he lets his eyes flutter shut again, resolves to calm down, focusing on the reward that he knows is coming.

It feels like a long time later when Jared finally blinks his eyes open, body boneless and pliant against the desk. His cock is soft, reluctantly so against the crease of his thigh, head sticky and clinging to the sensitive skin.

Jensen is gorgeous, so beautiful that even the fluorescent light can’t even render him dull, his hands moving so self-assured and confidently, middle finger flicking against his thumb, rubber coated fingernail clicking against the syringe. The sound sends a shudder through Jared, anticipation warring with fear and he feels it, toe to scalp.

“When I touch you,” Jensen says, eyes fixed on the translucent shape in front of him, “you’re going to want to get hard. Don’t.”

Body shifting against the desk, spine straightening along the wood, mouth dry. “Yes sir.” 

Jared doesn’t miss the way Jensen’s eyes darken at the words, but there’s not a trace of how it effects him in the way he touches Jared, thumb and forefinger closing gently just under the crown of Jared’s flaccid cock, pulling the weight up straight. Syringe, cold and slippery, touching the tiny, sensitive hole at the tip, and Jared closes his eyes, hisses in a breath.

It’s almost like an orgasm in reverse, the way liquid breaches him, soft and ceaseless, filling him where he’s never felt full before. He can feel it trickle down inside him, feel the way the nerves inside react, and God, fuck, it doesn’t feel like anything else he’s ever known, intense ripples of pleasure spilling all through him as he fights to stay still. Jared feels another slow surge of liquid pushing deep inside him and chokes back a cry. 

“So hot, Jared, the way you love _anything_ inside you.” Jensen’s words flow over Jared like a caress. “Such a fucking slut for it.”

“Fuck yes.” Fingernails scrabbling uselessly, whole body twitching, sweat welling to the surface of his skin, sudden and hot.

“Don’t worry,” Jensen grates, and Jared gasps as the syringe pulls from his opening, leaving behind a void. “Going to give it all to you,” Jensen adds, fingers leaving Jared again and Jared arches against the desk, can’t help it, whole body screaming for more. Distantly, Jared can hear Jensen setting something down, feel the shifting box weight against his belly. 

“When your cock is soft,” Jensen says, breathing in deep, careful thumb and forefinger wrapping around the head of Jared’s dick, “the opening is relaxed.” Metal rod poised slick and gleaming right above the center. “Makes it so much easier…” tip toying in the slick, teasing him, and fuck it feels so good , “to do _this_.”

Fuck, fuck. Oh God, he’s--

It’s a sweet sting, an almost bitter burn, skin stretching around the cool, slick metal, just the tiniest, tiniest push, barely breaching him, nerves he’s never felt before exploding with intense pleasure. His head falls back against the desk, sharp crack against the wood that he barely even feels, mouth falling open, hips starting to lift on pure instinct.

Jensen’s hand comes down with quick, hard slap against his belly, palm molding to him and pushing him down. Jensen leans over, eyes almost savage. “Don’t you dare,” he breathes, “fucking _move_.”

“Yes sir.” The words come quick, automatic and breathless, willing the muscles at the small of his back to relax, to keep his goddamned hips where they belong.

“Good,” Jensen says, weight of his palm leaving Jared slowly as he eases back. His hand closes around the base of Jared’s cock, eyes fixing on his work again, and Jared’s eyes roll back in his head, tiny sounds escaping him as he tries so very fucking _epically_ not to get hard. 

Slow, so incredibly, amazingly, excruciatingly _slow_. The rod is wet and cool and so very fucking mercilessly _hard_ , pressing inside him relentlessly. He can feel every fraction, every _millimeter_ , pleasure shivering out from the sensitive nerves and shuddering all through him, and _fuck_. His head feels heavy, thick like it’s filled with cotton and he can’t think around the space, can’t do anything but breathe and tremble and wait and take every single bit of what Jensen’s giving him.

It feels so good that he can’t do anything except lie there, thighs trembling, head thrown back. This is _deeper_ , this is _more_ , places inside him that no one has ever touched, and Christ, if he’d had any idea, he would have begged for it a long time ago--opens his mouth to start begging right the hell now, eyes rolling back in his head as the sensation overwhelms him, words dying unspoken as he practically chokes on his tongue. 

“Oh my fucking _God_ , Jensen.” Fingers clenching uselessly, nails scratching the polished wood, trying so hard not to squirm, not to shove into the pure, exquisite pleasure of his cock getting fucked.

“Such a _slut_ for me, Jared.” Jensen’s voice is rough, unsteady, so fucking electric against Jared’s ears that it shoots another burst of white-hot pleasure all through him. “Love it so much. Should make you wear this back to the reunion. Steel rod stuffed inside your cock, making you feel so fucking good that you wouldn’t even be able to _talk_.”

“Jensen. God. Fuck. Please, Jensen.” Jared isn’t even sure what he’s begging for anymore, doesn’t care, just _wants_.

“I could make you wear this all the time, Jared.” Jensen’s voice sounds like dirty gravel, rumble of it penetrating the fog of pleasure and spiking it up another notch. “Get you pierced and keep this locked inside you all the time.”

Jared bites his lip so hard that he tastes blood, groaning through his teeth at the thought, words tangled up in the feel of steel penetrating him, deeper, spreading him open, touching off a thousand explosions that leave him sweating, swearing and crying out mindlessly.

“Knew you could take it all.” Jensen sounds completely and utterly wrecked. “God, Jared. Just fucking _look_ at you.” Fingertips grazing the head of his cock, brushing the tip of the metal inside him and shifting its weight. Jared, seizes, gasping, thrusts his hips into the touch, some part of his brain screaming that he shouldn’t, isn’t supposed to, but he can’t stop, can’t fucking _help it_. His cock gets hard inside seconds, so fast that Jared almost feels faint.

“Open your eyes,” Jensen demands, fingers closing tight around the length of Jared’s cock, thumb grazing the tip of the rod again. “And look.”

Jared does exactly as he’s told, doesn’t want Jensen to stop—and his breath catches, hitching in his chest as he _sees_.

Small bit of round steel protruding from the tip, the ball of Jensen’s thumb resting against it, shiny, lube-slicked metal gripped by the tiny mouth of his cock, pre-come and lube leaking around the edges, dripping down over Jensen’s fingers wrapped around the flushed, hard length. God, it’s fucking _inside_ him, inside his _cock_ , and just the sight of his body being penetrated like that is enough to make him feel like he’s going to come. 

So exposed, cock impaled, jutting from between his legs, curve of it held in Jensen’s palm, thumb pressing down, thrusting the rod a fraction deeper and sending Jared’s brain into orbit, stomach contracting, spine clenching, whole body jolting against the desk. Completely at Jensen’s mercy, those wicked fingers stroking him with slow insistency, squeezing around the unforgiving metal inside him. He can _feel_ the way his cock flexes, tightening down, reflexes and nerves beyond his control grinding to a sudden halt around the intrusion, pulsing away with a shock of pure ecstasy that sends him rising off the wood again, hips bucking, jittering into the feel and wanting more, fingers grabbing desperately for the edges of the desk—for _anything_ he can fucking hold on to.

“Jesus fuck, Jared.” Lips moving against his throat, slippery slide of soft skin over sweat before Jensen opens his mouth, tongue swirling over his pulse, teeth biting, sinking deep into the vein and pulling, hand closing in a tight fist around Jared’s cock. Jensen leaning over him, pressed chest to chest, sealed mouth to skin, hand to cock, and Jared’s completely gone, panting breathlessly as every nerve ending in his body explodes, shattering him into a thousand nonsensical pieces. He thrusts into Jensen’s hand, gasping for air, skin dragging exquisitely, and Christ, the way it _feels_ , pressure inside him shifting—

Sudden weight slams into his belly as the feeling stops, and he hits the desk with a sudden jolt, motion reverberating through his cock and sending another shudder through him. Jensen’s fingers flex against the muscles there, pinning him.

“I gave you a very simple command.” Fingertips digging into the skin, nails grazing and leaving goose bumps in their wake. Jensen’s reprimand is a snarl, harsh enough to pierce the fog around Jared’s mind.

“Sorry,” he gasps through the roughness of his throat. “Just… feels so fucking good. Please… don’t stop.”

“Oh…” Jensen’s voice turns sinuous, breathing hot into Jared’s ear. “It’s far too late for that.” Words like rich, dark velvet caressing him, promise and threat both. “You failed the lesson.” Barely whispered, Jensen’s voice coiling around his mind, closing tight. “Now _I_ have to teach you.”

Jensen’s hands move fast, grabbing Jared shoulder and hip, turning him, and Jared moves with the force, landing on his belly. Cock stuffed full, sandwiched between his stomach and the desk, pleasure pouring through him in a sudden flood at the pressure. It doesn’t stop, winds higher and tighter on a feedback loop that makes him whimper and bite down hard, cheek shoved against the desk. Christ, he’s never going to fucking survive just lying here with this thing inside him, much less whatever Jensen’s about to do to him. He can hear the desk drawer slide open, feel the vibration of its motion through the desk, even that tiny sensation sending ripples through his sensitive cock and straight to the top of his skull.

The ruler hits the inside of his thigh without warning, sharp smack and hips jerking convulsively against the desk, cock shoving and dragging, caught between weight and wood, rod shoving in deeper, flesh moving around its hard length and it’s too fucking much. Mouth open, wet against the desk, teeth scraping the surface, desperately trying to drag in air that won’t come, throat locked as tight as every muscle in his body, sensations shattering him into a thousand useless pieces.

“Spread your fucking legs wider,” Jensen growls. The ruler strikes the inside of his other thigh, and he hasn’t even finished riding the first wave of intense pleasure when the next one hits him hard and drags him under, leaves him helpless and writhing against the desk, fingers clenching into fists and unclenching reflexively. 

The flat of the ruler hits his ass and he writhes, jolting again, eyes rolling back in his head, every sensation like lightning striking straight into his brain. His cock is aching hard, pressure and motion, velvety skin rubbing against the desk, head flexing helplessly around the steel inside him. Metal knob sliding against wood through his own slickness, whole body feverishly hot, every muscle knotted so tight he feels like he’s going to burst apart.

“Oh my motherfucking--Jensen.” The words spill from him, streaming and slurred incoherent flow, but Jensen seems to understand anyway, bare palm of his hand sliding over the sting, gloves gone now, thumb rubbing, tracing out the shape of the welt. Jared holds his breath, tries not to squirm , some distant part of his brain so trained by now that it’s almost instinct, but it’s so motherfucking _hard_ , cock throbbing with the beat of his heart, Jensen’s touch sending flares of pain like dark fire licking all through him, slamming into the continuous waves of pleasure rippling through his dick, and it’s too much, too fucking _much_ \--

He turns his face against the desk, lower lip dragging, slow sticky glide, tongue shaping itself around the word _please_ , and the thin width of the ruler strikes his ass again, body rippling serpentine against the shock of pain, colors blooming like flowers behind his eyelids as his whole body clenches down helplessly. 

“Driving you crazy, isn’t it?” Jensen breathes, hand smoothing over the abraded skin, and Jared hisses, twitching at the flare of pain, motion rubbing his dick against the desk again and sending ecstasy spiraling through him so fast and bright and hard that he almost feels bruised with it, pain feeding the pleasure. God he’s really going to fucking _die_ , maybe for real this time, and he really doesn’t give a _fuck_.

“Gonna stripe your hot ass red,” Jensen grates. “Leave pretty welts and ridges all over it.” Thin skate of Jensen’s tongue riding the edge of the welt on his ass, and Jared hisses, sucking in a breath and denying everything inside him that screams for him to arch into that sweet, wicked tongue. Scrape of teeth and Jared shivers, moaning. “And then fuck it raw.” 

Jared twists his face against the desk, groaning against the shockwaves of pleasure rippling through him at the idea, at the feel of Jensen’s mouth against him.

Slow spiral of tongue down the center of him, dipping into where Jared’s deepest and hottest, trailing around the rim, and then Jensen brings the ruler down. He does it again and again, one hit after another, each one shaking and rocking him so hard that he can barely remember to breathe, tongue curling and licking inside him so very fucking slow and excruciatingly perfect. Each strike and thrust of slick muscle inside him leaves him useless and straining until the pleasure winds so high and tight that he thinks he won’t survive the next stroke, the next strike, and he doesn’t ever want it to _stop_. 

Jensen finally pulls his tongue free with a slow lick around the edge, face turning away, teeth catching , biting against tender skin. Jared’s toes curl, whole body seizing, and fuck, Jensen’s going to _fuck_ him and he… he…

“Can’t. _God_. Fucking _can’t_.” His eyelids feel glued shut, wetness beading between the delicate fringe. Harsh pants of breath between the broken words of confession, whole body fused rigid against the desk.

“You...” Jensen’s hand smoothes over the curve of his ass, sending sparks of pain arcing all through him. “Don’t get a choice.” Light scrape of a nail over a welt, searing pleasure pain subsiding every nerve in his body twisting as Jensen’s finger trails downward, between his legs. Drip of slick wetness falling against him, Jensen’s fingers tracing out his rim, teeth locked together so tight Jared feels like he might shatter them. Slow weight leaning down across his back, pinning him, fingertips teasing at his hole. Lick, suck and sudden sharp bite against the back of Jared’s neck, and he throws his head back, loving the feel of Jensen’s teeth in his skin. 

“You…” Words breathed out between quick delicate bites that turn sharp and unforgiving, “failed the lesson.” Swirl of tongue between teeth, circling the knob of bone at the top of his spine. “Now…” Mouth seizing, claiming him, weight holding him still, “you get…” Jensen’s fingers teasing at the sensitive skin, “exactly what I fucking give you.” Jensen growls out the words, fingers thrusting inside his body without warning, hitting that sweet spot, and Jared _surges_ , body skipping up the desk, high-pitched whine through clenched teeth, whole world exploding and turning inside out, cock and ass so full that the pleasure is _unbearable_.

Fingers fucking him relentlessly, every single thrust nudging his cock against the rod shoved inside him, pushing it deeper, and then the ruler comes down again, muscles twitching scattershot, ass clenching around Jensen’s fingers, greedy and lifting to take more.

Jensen beats his ass red and raw and Jared doesn’t care, can barely feel the needles stinging like nettles under his skin, surging fire up into his spine, balls and belly prickling with molten heat. His cock is dripping around the metal knob, flesh rubbed thin and sensitive, nerves twitching uselessly and endlessly, short circuiting his brain until he’s nothing but a messy, needy plea. God. This. Anything, anything as long as Jensen doesn’t _stop_. 

Jensen’s fingers pull from him slow, slick fingertips delineating the ridges rising from the bruised skin of his ass. “Good. God, so good.” Jensen’s voice is molten and heavy, crackling with the strain of speaking, and Jared whimpers at the praise, at how absolutely fucking _turned on_ Jensen is right now. Jensen telling him he’s good, wanting Jared so much, pure fucking filthy sex in every touch, in every caress of his words, love written in every catch of Jensen’s breath. 

Fingers closing on the back of Jared’s head, thick strands caught between, twist and tug and yank, body molding against Jared’s, teeth closing around his exposed throat. Blunt, hot head of Jensen’s cock, wet and teasing against him and he spreads his legs wider, moan reverberating through his chest in anticipation. Completely at Jensen’s mercy; broken wide open, spread bare body and soul. It’s beautiful, the way it makes him feel, the trust that binds them, the love that lets them be this way, binds them even more closely together, neither of them giving less than everything.

Jensen thrusts inside him, filling Jared like a lightning strike, expelling all the breath from Jared’s lungs as Jensen grinds down, Jared’s body sliding up the desk, pulling the head of his cock back around the rod inside him. Pleasure beyond any orgasm he’s ever experienced breaks him down and rips him to shreds, lips parting, curling in a snarl, mind and body nothing but one bright conduit of sheer ecstasy. 

“God, Jared.” Mouth whispering wicked against the beat of Jared’s pulse, hips twisting wickedly, pulling out and driving deep. “You’re being so good. Just lying there, taking everything I give you. Just like a little fucking cock tease should.” Jensen pounds into him, fucking him with pistoning hips that leave Jared fractured and falling apart. His cheeks are wet with sweat and tears, mouth slow and incoherent, everything so fucking perfect that he can barely stand it, riding wave after wave as Jensen’s hand slides around his body.

“So hot, your cock stuffed so fucking full.” Fingers teasing the tip, wriggling the rod deep inside him, stomach convulsing with the feel, fireworks exploding through him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with this, can’t find purchase with his fingers, his mind. “Couldn’t even come if I wanted to let you.”

He doesn’t need to come. He doesn’t even _want_ to come, feeling of Jensen so deep inside him, loving Jared like this, giving this to him, fingertips and steel devouring him and swallowing him whole. 

“Don’t… care…” Words whispered out, strained in the space between his face and the desk. “Don’t… need to come. Fuck… so fucking…” Full bodied shiver, muscles contracting around Jensen’s thick cock buried in his ass, “ _good_ , Jensen.”

“Christ, Jared. So motherfucking perfect.” Words hissed out, searing against his skin, ragged twist and thrust that goes skidding wild inside Jared, belly knotting and then releasing in a riot of pleasure that rocks him from head to toe. He can feel Jensen pulse inside him, molten slick spill, Jensen relentlessly fucking him into the desk until his cock is screaming with so much pleasure he can’t tell which way is up, muscles locking, mind shutting down as sheer sensation takes over. Angling hips hitting his prostate, mouth fused to his throat, hand twisting violently in his hair, and his brain overloads, short circuits and comes undone.

He’s nothing but unraveled threads, limp and spent against the desk as awareness slowly returns, reality slowly straightening into the straight lines of the ceiling tiles. He’s on his back again, and he isn’t sure when or how that happened, when exactly Jensen stopped fucking him. He can feel wetness pooling between his legs, warm puddle of slick spreading out over the wood, sticking to his skin. His cock is still a white-hot ache of pleasure, rock hard and jutting up from his belly, ass welted and sore against the desk.

Jensen’s face is flushed, trickle of beading sweat rolling down from his temple, clinging to the line of his sharp cheekbone, slipping down to the curve of his lips as his tongue flicks out, licking it away, eyes devouring Jared’s body.

“So pretty, Jared.” Thick whisper and Jensen bends, lips brushing the head of Jared’s cock, tongue flashing out and tasting the metal, swirling around the tiny ball. The feel of that soft pressure crashing through him, over sensitized nerves flaring and begging for more, and Jensen gives it to him, mouth wrapping around the head and sucking hard down the shaft. Jared’s shoulders fly from the desk, half-sitting up at the intense pleasure, hands coming down on the edges of the desk and holding on for life. Jensen sucks him deep and then hard as he pulls up along the length, mouth teasing, tongue skating under the crown, up and over and flicking against the metal knob. Jared’s knees jerk, heels clicking against the desk, body falling back down with a thump, head thrown back and spine arching, fingers squeezing tight against hard wood.

Jensen’s thumbs curl into the hollow space inside each hip bone, pressure pushing down against Jared’s aching cock, balls drawing tight in response. Those fingers gripping his ass, holding him relentlessly still, and Jensen dives with a twist of his neck, swallowing Jared’s cock, muscles of his throat closing like a vise around the sensitive head. The cry that leaves Jared is strangled, muffled, like screaming underwater, and those thumbs dig in deeper, rub his hip bones from the inside as Jensen pulls away again, tight, velvety smoothness of his mouth almost more than Jared can bear. He can’t breathe, can’t fucking move, can’t thrust wantonly into that decadent mouth giving him more intense pleasure than it ever has, and he whines deep in his throat, sound cutting off sharply as Jensen sucks hard at the tiny metal ball protruding from his cock, and oh Jesus _fuck_ , Jensen’s going to—

Thought cuts off just as abruptly as Jensen’s lips wrap around the tip, slow suction drawing it up, up, up, millimeter by agonizing millimeter, and Jared feels like he’s going to come right out of his skin, head thrashing against the desk, chest rising into the air, throat locked silently closed and convulsing with audible clicks, eyes rolling back in his head. Balls seizing and cock flexing, whole body pulling into a knot and oh, God, oh fuck, he’s going… to… come… so… motherfucking… hard. Pressure building in his belly, volcanic explosion rising, every nerve misfiring, heels kicking hard against wood as the whole world expands and then contracts. Jensen’s hand on his cock, stroking him—and oh, fuck, oh _Christ_ , it’s too big, too much for him to take and he can’t be here, inside his body, can’t… _can’t_ \---

The rod pulls free between Jensen’s lips, and everything stops; suspended moment, breathing deep, in and out, body coiling like a spring, surge sweeping through him—and then Jensen shoves three fingers inside his ass. 

His brain doesn’t explode so much as it ruptures, pleasure so viciously brutal and intense it almost hurts consuming him completely. Nothing exists except the space between his legs, all conscious thought driven out in burst of white-hot light that sears him to the bone, molten fire flooding his veins as he snaps. There is motion, weight convulsing against the desk, a roar like screaming, but Jared isn’t part of any of it, isn’t anything but inhuman, incomprehensible rapture; bright pulses blasting and radiating, ripples folding and falling back in on themselves. 

When it finally ends, there’s a slow climb from darkness to vague awareness. Jared is a quivering mess, nerves spasming, whole body twitching, cheeks wet with sweat and tears and he can’t _feel_ his limbs, much less control them. It takes a few seconds for his brain to orient itself, to find and keep track of all his appendages, and God, his whole body feels alive, still sparking and thrumming with aftershocks. Opening his eyes seems like an overrated effort, and he just lies there, boneless and melting against the desk, feeling every single ripple of pleasure chasing through him.

“Jared.” Jensen’s voice is soft, so close to him, lips pressing a brief kiss to Jared’s, hand catching around Jared’s chin. “Are you okay?” Jared’s jaw trembles, tongue moving too thick and heavy to form the words that want to come.

“Jared?” Jensen’s voice tightens with concern. “Jared, answer me.”

Jared licks his lips and tries to remember the English language. “That…” he gasps the word, hitches in another breath. “Was.” Talking is much harder work than he ever remembers it being. “Epic.”

He can hear and feel Jensen’s sigh of relief, rush of breath turning to a chuckle near the end. “I don’t think you’ve ever misbehaved that badly.”

“You’re lucky I’m still fucking _sane_ after that,” Jared gasps, eyes flickering open.

A tiny, self-satisfied smile flits across Jensen’s mouth, and Jared’s eyes narrow.

“You knew, didn’t you? Knew I wouldn’t be able to hold still.”

“I might have suspected.” Jensen is smirking as he leans to kiss Jared, mouthing warm against his lips, “Next time I’ll have to tie you down.”

Jared moans, shivering as he reaches up, sinks his hands into short, spiky hair and kisses Jensen, tongue thrusting wet and deep.

“I remember… the first time I saw you in this room,” Jared gasps, hands shaking against Jensen’s face, whole body strung out. “Wanted you so much,” he breathes, nipping at Jensen’s lower lip, chin tilting up, eyes catching, holding Jensen’s. 

“Still want you so much.” Slow, sweet, deep kissing and he loves it when Jensen’s like this, hands molded against him like second skin, tongue wrapping soft around Jared’s, suckling and pulling.

“And you,” Jensen’s voice is low, husky, like a caress, fingers drawing a line along his cheekbone, “drove me so fucking crazy, Jared.”

“Well,” Jared grins, mouth curving against Jensen’s, “that… was pretty much the plan.”

“The way you looked in your uniform.” Tongue slick and riding the curve of his lower lip, so fucking searing hot. “Always showing off your body. So eager to please.”

“Remember,” Jared gasps, fingers running down the back of Jensen’s shirt, delineating the notches of his spine. “The way I made myself come in front of the whole class… just because,” slow kiss, Jensen’s lower lip caught between his teeth before he pulls away, “you asked me to.”

“It ranks near the top,” Jensen’s mouth curves in smile against Jared’s.

“Not number one?” Jared asks, pulling back just a fraction, just enough to let his lips move against Jensen’s. “Now I have to know.” 

“The nipple clamps hold a special place,” Jensen’s eyes are suddenly hooded, impassive.

“All part of my master plan to hook you forever,” Jared chuckles; sound reverberating into Jensen’s mouth. “But you’re not getting out of telling me what you remember most.”

Jensen’s jaw shifts, pulling away from Jared. It’s a gesture Jared knows so very intimately after all this time; those calculating eyes, that seeming stoicism carefully thinking out an answer.

“What I remember most is the last time we were in this room,” Jensen whispers, hand sliding around Jared’s jaw, cupping his face. “I can’t believe I ever let you walk away.”

Jared’s heart skips a beat and then he remembers to breathe. “Lucky for both of us you came to your senses.”

So close, wet and musky with the scent of sweat Jared knows by heart by now, but he can remember the first time he smelled it, _felt_ it hit him like a ton of bricks right in the stomach. Jensen pressed tight like there wasn’t anything between them except skin, that scent filling him, the way he’d wanted it, the way he still wants it, loves it every single time. Salty-sweet taste of him, and it never gets old, leaves him eighteen and desperate for more. Closer, deeper; inside his skin, buried in his bones couldn’t be deep enough.

“I love you, Jensen.” The words leave him in a slow breath, savoring every syllable. 

“Tell me,” Jensen purrs, lower lip dragging wet and hot against Jared’s. “Something I _don’t_ know.”

He could say so many things; how much he loves Jensen even _more_ after all these years, how fucking perfect he is, how Jared’s never loved anyone else and how he can’t imagine anyone else who’d ever even come _close_ , how he doesn’t even want to, how it isn’t even possible. He could say all that, but Jensen knows every bit of that already. 

“There isn’t a single thing,” Jared whispers, fingertips tracing the curve of Jensen’s jaw, “I could tell you,” slow breath into Jensen, eyes locked together, “that you don’t already know.”

Jensen shakes his head fractionally, almost rueful smile curving his mouth, reflected in his eyes. “I love you, Jared,” he breathes, kissing Jared deep and strong and slow, jaw flexing, tongue rolling.

It never stops being amazing, the bracelet around his wrist, the chain wound tight around his neck, Jensen’s hands all over him, pressing him against the wood, consuming him, kissing him so passionately, owning every single bit of him. Jensen, so fucking hot and sweet and intense, _loving_ him; as much Jared’s as Jared’s ever been his. In all the times they’ve been on this desk, he’d never once imagined it would be like this—that it _could_.

He’d never once imagined how much, how deeply they could love each other, _know_ each other. He hadn’t lived long enough then, hadn’t had enough experience to understand how it could be, to love someone for so long beyond all reason, so totally and completely that your entire life would be empty, heart homeless without them.

And this desk, for all that it started them out, sustained them through the beginning, how much fun it was tonight… can’t hold a candle to what they are now.

“Everyone should know… what it’s like… to be with someone like you,” Jared whispers, kissing out slow, fingertips molding, curving to the shape of Jensen’s face.

“Everyone?” Jensen asks, tongue riding the curve of Jared’s lower lip.

“Yes, everyone,” he asserts, tracing along the lines of Jensen’s cheekbones, trying to think of the most extreme example to bring it home to Jensen. “Even Chad.”

Jensen nips at his mouth and draws back, dark green eyes calculating, smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. “If you’re bringing up Chad right now, I may have to kill you.”

“You know I really am going to die from what you do to me one of these days,” Jared grins.

“Then you’d better take me with you,” Jensen whispers back, thumb stroking along Jared’s cheekbone.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

_Meanwhile…_

“So…” Misha glances sideways at Chad, tipping up his beer bottle. “They’re fucking right now?”

Chad shrugs, straightens one arm and checks his watch for emphasis. “It’s been at least four hours since the last time they could’ve fucked. They already ate, they did the social get together thing—that’s about all they pause for between fucking. And I mean, we’re fuckin’ _here_ ,” Chad spreads his hands in an encompassing ‘duh’ gesture. “Twenty to one ol’ Jenny-boy’s got Jay tied to the classroom desk for old time’s sake by now.”

“Wait. What?” Misha asks, frowning. “Old time’s sake? Are you saying… perfectly poised Mr. Jensen Ackles, former physics teacher according to his name tag—yes, I am observant--used to hold extracurricular activities on his desk? With Jared?”

Chad laughs with delight at the expression on Misha’s face. “Oh dude, have I got a fuckin’ story for _you_.”

*

“Really?” Misha adds finishing his third beer since Chad started explaining the Ballad of Jensen and Jared. “All that, and it worked out?”

“No fuckin’ shit, dude,” Chad says, holding out his hands. “If I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’. I couldn’t make their relationship up if I fuckin’ _tried_.”

“Huh.” Misha nods, lips curling together thoughtfully. “That’s way better than my last story of meeting someone.”

“Yeah?” Chad asks, turning his head. “How’d that go?”

“Oh, well,” Misha says, brightening. “I was miming for this kid’s birthday party--”

“Wait, hold the fuck up, back up and punt,” Chad interrupts, laughing. “You’re fucking with me, right? _You_. _YOU’RE_ a mime?”

“Sometimes,” Misha shrugs, nonchalant, like it’s not even a thing. “And then I talk to the kid’s dad afterwards, and--”

Chad just looks at him. “Dude, how the _fuck_ are you a mime? You never _shut up_.”

Misha nods, lips pursing. “That’s what _he_ said.”

*

“I’m just saying,” Misha says, waving a hand to an abrupt stop through the air. “You’re sure ‘completely gay’ is a pre-requisite?”

“They won the fuckin’ Gay Kinky Karmic Lottery, dude. One in a billion. They’re not the model to compare relationships to—trust me, I fuckin’ know this on a soul deep basis I _wish_ I didn’t have.”

“Seems to me like you’d just need the two right people.”

“Yeah, you go sell that crazy shit somewhere where people need to hear it,” Chad shrugs, throwing back his shoulders. “I had the girl-- _the_ fuckin’ girl—in my arms tonight. The Nancy to my Sid, Bonnie to my fuckin’ Clyde. Butch and Sundance.”

“So why’d you let her go?”

“Not even close to my league,” Chad shakes his head.

“So you’re saying she was dull?”

“Not ever.”

“Nancy and Bonnie were in league with Sid and Clyde,” Misha shrugs, head lolling to the side to look at Chad. “It didn’t end well, so I’m questioning your choice of role models, but they were all on the same playing field.”

Asshole. “You know you’re a dick, right?”

Misha turns up his palms and shrugs, smiling. “Philosophy. It’s my job.”

Chad stops, bites his lower lip. Fucker. “Is this the part where I decide to hate you because you make more sense than me? ‘Cause that’s Jensen’s job, and fuck a whole lot of that.”

Misha cuts him a sideways glance, arching a brow.

“Sounds dysfunctional.”

“Nah, dude,” Chad laughs and throws back the last of his beer. “We fuckin’ _redefine_ dysfunctional.” Chad sets the bottle aside on the table and meets Misha eye to eye. “We’re the Holy fuckin’ trifecta of an ambiguous, fucked up relationship.”

Misha shifts his shoulders, settles back against the table.

“But without the sex?”

*

“You’re ‘chasing Amy’,” Misha asserts as they reach the end of the hallway. “Except in reverse, because you’re chasing a gay relationship that isn’t yours and still think you’re straight.”

Chad pushes the door open to the night air, pausing long enough to turn his head.

“You’re fuckin’ serious?”

“No, I’m totally making shit up to impress you,” Misha says, eyes rolling up and to the side as he leans back against the brick wall. “What do _you_ think?”

No, he’s pretty sure Misha wouldn’t make shit up to impress him, and that’s impressive all on its own, because most people who can hang for five minutes in a conversation with Chad never have the balls to oppose him. But then, Misha’s pretty much awesome from every angle.

Chad squints at Misha sideways, suddenly strange thought striking him through his drunken haze as he puts a cigarette to his lips. “You don’t have a foot kink, do you?”

“Mmm,” Misha nods. “You know I really meant to, but my Kyphophobia kept kicking in.”

Chad bursts out laughing. “Your fear of stooping? 

“Makes tying my shoes a bitch,” Misha nods again. “And between you and me,” Misha goes on, turning his head towards Chad. “Soap on a rope is a bitch to work with.”

“Your sick showering habits can take a backseat,” Chad laughs, lighting his cigarette between his palms. He sucks in hard and slow, eyes squinting around the smoke as he looks Misha up and down. “I wanna know why the fuck a philosophy teacher knows anything about psychological phobias.”

The cigarette is gone from his fingers before he’s even done inhaling.

The cherry of the cigarette glows brightly, lighting Misha’s face in orange and black. “I swear; minoring in psychology in no way helped,” Misha says with a grin as he exhales smoke. 

No fuckin’ way. Chad smirks and grabs the cigarette from between Misha’s fingers. “Now you’re just trying to impress me.” 

“Is it working?” Misha asks, brows rising curiously, smile playing around his mouth.

“Honestly?” Chad asks, dragging hard and exhaling. “If you had tits I’d probably fuckin’ marry you.”

“Well,” Misha grins. “If I had tits I’d let you put it anywhere, so I guess we’re even.” 

Chad busts out laughing, shaking his head. “Seriously, dude. Where the fuck did you even come from?”

Misha grins wider, takes the cigarette from Chad and inhales, little puff of smoke escaping as he pulls it from between his lips. “From a place with no tits. Which is a damned shame, since apparently it’s a pre-requisite.”

“I could spring for surgery,” Chad offers, shrugging, head lolling to the side with a grin.

“I’m thinking this is a no-tits-required situation,” Misha says, blowing smoke succinctly into Chad’s face. He drops the cigarette to the ground without looking away.

Misha’s mouth is entirely too close to his. 

What’s bothering Chad more than how close Misha is, is the way that it doesn’t feel _wrong_ , and it really fuckin’ should be, right? Guy’s all up in his personal space like… like… 

“You’re, like, a _guy_ and shit,” Chad explains carefully. “And I don’t like guys. Never have, never will. Simple as fuckin’ that. Which is actually a fuckin’ shame when you get right down to it, because that would like, double my chances of getting laid, right?”

“At least,” Misha shrugs. “But _I_ think you want to kiss me. And you know, I don’t have a problem with that, I’m flattered, really, and you’re attractive—but it’s not exactly my thing.”

“Right?” Chad says. “So we both know exactly where the fuck we’re coming from--”

“Okay, I lied. It’s totally my thing.” Misha grabs Chad’s face between his hands and yanks him closer. 

“Dude, what--”

“Chad,” Misha says, blue eyes intent. “Shut the fuck up.”

And then Misha… kisses him. Not just a little bit, not even a “hey, how you doin’?”, but full on, tongue sliding between Chad’s lips, mouth following forcefully behind. Misha’s mouth is softer than he would have guessed, and he tastes mostly like cheap beer and cigarettes, but that’s pretty much how Chad rolls, anyway. He’s kissing Chad hard and slow, tongue circling Chad’s and sucking lightly, Chad’s pretty fuckin’ sure he’s never been kissed this well in his entire life. 

Fuck it.

He slides his hands up Misha’s neck, puts his thumbs on Misha’s jaw on either side and pulls him in closer, mouth opening wider. It’s hot and rough, Misha’s tongue sliding quick and sure and certain like he’s Master Po delivering the fucking State of the Union. Like he’s just been waiting to do this all night. Chad pushes back, tongues gliding over each other, Misha’s chest against his, and he feels _good_. 

“So?” Misha breathes, pulling back and looking at him. “Are you over this whole ‘I like girls’ thing yet, or what?”

That… that was… he’s not even sure what the fuck that was but he’s pretty sure it was a lot fucking hotter than it should have been. And yeah, okay, Misha’s a guy, and he’s a really fuckin’ _cool_ guy, and he’s… well, yeah, he’s hot, Chad can appreciate that in a totally not-gay way, and that was maybe the best Chad’s ever been kissed by anybody, but _still_. 

“You expect me to be over a lifetime of chicks after one kiss?” Chad arches a brow at Misha.

“I’m a really good kisser,” Misha asserts with an utterly hysterical solemn expression.

“You are too fuckin’ arrogant to be real,” Chad laughs, because seriously. “It’s gonna take more than that,” he smirks.

Misha moves closer again, close enough that Chad can feel him breathing.

“You know,” Misha says, voice deep and rough. “I’ve got a desk right down the hall.”

*

_Presently_

Jensen helps Jared get dressed, hands sliding over his body, buttoning and zipping him, and it’s almost too much to stand, fingers touching and tracing over him, teasing and hinting. It’s so much more erotic than being undressed, and Jared’s practically biting through his lower lip as Jensen slips the final button through his jacket. Jensen just smiles, pulls him into a kiss and spins him out towards the door.

They walk down the hallway hand in hand-- _hand in hand_ , the way Jared always wanted them to, Jensen’s fingers closed casually around his, their arms swinging lightly in time with their steps. There’s no hiding between them, not anymore, hasn’t been for a long time, but it’s this, walking down the corridor of his old high school, hand in hand with his former teacher that seals everything, brings it full circle for all time.

They’re here. They’re here, and they’re forever. Right here, against the hallway lockers where Jensen turns him, kisses him, hand sweeping down his face, fingertips tracing his cheekbone, his jaw.

When they walk back into the gym, people are still moving on the dance floor, blue and yellow lights sweeping over them as they sway, striping and painting their skin. A few people sitting at tables turn their heads as they pass, and Jared flexes his hand, slides his palm against Jensen's, linking their fingers and squeezing tight.

“We’re still not done here, are we?” Jensen asks, and Jared smiles at the sound, knows it too well for the sarcastic affection it really is.

“Nope.”

“I’ll get more alcohol,” Jensen nods.

They both stop, steps slowing in tandem as they spot two people pulling back from the bar with fresh drinks in their hands. It’s unbelievable… and also, not unexpected.

“Is that… Chad? Kissing… Misha? _Kissing_?” Jensen sounds like a man whose world is coming unraveled right before his eyes.

Jared’s not as surprised as he maybe should be. But then again, he knows Chad, and if anybody’s ever fit Chad like a glove… Jared slides closer and wraps his arm around Jensen’s waist, can’t keep the teasing note from his voice. “You were the one who always said Chad should embrace his latent bisexuality.”

Jensen shakes his head, lips pressing together, line drawing tight between his brows. “I know I did. But, Jared.” Jensen’s expression is plaintive, brows rising high as he looks at Jared. “ _Two_ of them?” 

“It could be worse. It could’ve been you. Chad always said he wanted you to be his first.” Jared grins and rubs his fingers down the material of Jensen’s suit, feeling the muscle beneath.

Jensen goes dead serious, evaluating what Jared just said, green eyes taking on a sharp, thoughtful cast. His gaze flicks towards Chad and Misha, corner of his mouth twitching before he looks back to Jared.

“Do you think it’s too late to volunteer?”

*

Misha leaves Chad, heading for what looks like the bathroom, and Jared seizes the opportunity. Jensen gives Jared a look of pity when he excuses himself.

“So how’d things go with you?” Jared asks, moving up beside Chad.

“You mean while you had your tour de desk circa two-thousand-five?” Chad sways a little, tilting to the side as he shrugs. “My whole world took a left turn, dude. We’re talking fucking U-Turn in the land of no U-Turns.”

“You and Misha?” Jared asks.

Chad shakes his head and tips his beer at Jared. “You know what I said about how there’s no fuckin’ Prince Charming waiting? I dunno, Jay. I told Sandy earlier I was pretty sure I was never gonna find another girl who could roll with me like she does, and of course I was fuckin’ _right_. He’s a guy… _total_ fuckin’ guy, but he gets me, you know? Like nobody else,” Chad finishes, shrugging. “Like, I open my fuckin’ mouth, and he finishes my sentence. And that’d be great, best thing ever, except… I’m not _gay_ ,” Chad asserts, gesturing with his beer bottle.

Jared starts to open his mouth and Chad cuts him off.

“He kissed me. Twice. And invited me back to his desk.”

Well. That’s… Jensen would be _choking_ right now, literally, but Jensen’s not here. Jared’s doing a little bit better; the ice stuck in his throat’ll melt in a minute. When he can breathe again, he downs the rest of his white Russian and takes a deep breath.

“So what’d you say?”

“That’s it? I tell you a guy kissed me and invited me back for kinky teacher desk-sex and all you wanna know is what I fuckin’ _said_?” Chad throws up his free hand. “Oh, wait. I forgot, you’re the fuckin’ poster child for that shit. What the fuck was I thinking?”

And Chad has… points. But it’s not like this is a total shock, no matter how weird it is, and tonight’s been a night for surprises. “I think your answer is gonna tell me everything else I need to know.”

“I _didn’t_ fuckin’ answer him,” Chad delivers the words like he’s shooting a gun at Jared, and seriously, if he’s this defensive… 

“Chad.” Jared’s had enough to drink tonight that he feels like he can say this. “Listen to me, because I don’t think I’m gonna be able to say it more than once… but I’m pretty sure you two were made for each other. I’ve been your best friend for most of your life, and half the time **I** need a translator whenever you open your mouth. And Misha gets you, from moment one? It’s monumental, dude. You can’t walk out on that just because he’s a guy. Even Jensen was saying how scary it was, earlier; like he was made for you. Well,” Jared adds, shrugging a little. “That and that he’s glad this is what’s going to make you finally realize you’re gay so he doesn’t have to be your first.”

Chad scowls. “I should make him do it just for saying that shit, asshole.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I think you two should just fuck and get it over with.”

Chad sees his eyeroll and raises him a searing glare. “Jay, get over your fuckin’ threesome kink and focus.”

And this is the part that’s gonna be a little bit tough, but Jared can do this—alcohol helps. “Chad, I love you, but, seriously. The pegging? Maybe I could have bought in the first time. But doing it multiple times?”

“Hey, just because I like it with chicks doesn’t mean--”

Alcohol helps a _lot_. “You like getting fucked in the ass,” Jared says, flicking his eyes over at Chad as he cuts him off. “That means you could be bi. But don’t worry,” he hurries on before Chad can get in another word. “So is Misha, so it’s all good.” Jared pats Chad on the shoulder consolingly. “You can bring home the occasional girl to convince yourselves that you’re ‘still not gay’.”

“Wait a minute.” Chad holds up a hand. “You can’t just call that shit out on Misha—you don’t even fuckin’ know him.”

Jared lifts a hand and points across the room to where Misha’s chatting up one of the other teachers, shoveling in Cheetos and ogling her cleavage. 

Chad’s mouth snaps shut as he follows the line of Jared’s pointing finger, and he stands there, completely speechless for a moment. “Shit,” he breathes, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re right. He’s fuckin’ perfect.”

Jared nods. “And if Jensen asks, we never had this conversation.”

Chad smirks and claps Jared on the back, walking off in Jensen’s direction.

*

“You need to get out more, Jen. Look at you, all solitaire, here for Jared and nothing else.”

“You have a better reason?” Jensen asks, inclining his head towards Chad.

“At least a dozen,” Chad laughs, putting a hand against his chest as he half-falls against the bar. “I did write fuckin’ self help book, for Christ’s sake. You gotta have at least a dozen. You want me to go down the list?”

“Chad. Do you really think that writing self-help books is the best way to use your degree?”

“Jenny-boy,” Chad says, slinging an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “If I can help you, then I can definitely help the rest of the world.”

Jensen shifts his jaw to the side and bites down hard. “That’s a compliment?”

“ _Totally_. You’re like my fuckin’ inspiration, you know? Half the people I counseled during my internship weren’t anywhere _near_ as fucked up as you--”

“Just stop while it’s still supposed to be a compliment,” Jensen says, holding up a hand.

“So, look,” Chad says, elbow almost taking Jensen’s right arm out from under him. “This whole thing with Misha. What do you think?”

Jensen stops, fingers curling around the condensation of his glass. “Did you just ask me what I _think_?”

“You’re not gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack are you? I mean I know you’re old and shit but dude, people are trying to party here.” Chad gestures at the crowd with a flow of one hand.

“You know,” Jensen says leaning over his drink. “To this day, I don’t have any idea how we ended up as friends.”

Chad laughs and shoves a shoulder against Jensen’s, motion traveling down his arm and sending a splash of liquid over the edge of his glass. “Shit, dude. You don’t know why? Let me put it like this… in your own way? You’re just as fuckin’ batshit as you think I am. On the other side of the spectrum, but you’re no fuckin’ different. I’m just the kind of crazy that gets under your skin because I’m the Yin to your Yang, dude. And you’re smart enough to know it. Simple as that.”

Jensen grinds his teeth together. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Chad grins, clinking his drink against Jensen’s with a victorious grin before he downs it. He slams the empty glass down on the bar and reaches to adjust his tie. “You hate me ‘cause I’m right. It’s also why you fuckin’ listen to me.”

Jensen tightens his grip on his drink, teeth sliding sideways against each other. He lets the edges catch on the inside of his jaw, chewing at the soft skin. “Accepting you was hard enough,” he finally says. “The idea that there’s two of you out there, that you could be _together_ , horrifies me beyond words.”

“You know shoving me at him woulda been more subtle, right?”

“I know,” Jensen sighs, exasperated. 

“That’s how I know it’s the truth,” Chad says, looking at him soberly for a moment. 

“You…” Jensen clears his throat and forces out the words, “deserve to be happy, Chad. Even,” he coughs into his hand and pushes through the rest, “at the expense of my sanity.”

Chad beams at him with the absurd banality that only the truly shitfaced can achieve. “Aw, Jenny. I really feel like we’ve fuckin’ grown here, dude. I might even need to hug you.”

Chad’s had enough to drink that he might actually try it. “Please no.”

Chad waves an unwieldy, drunken finger in Jensen’s face. “I see right through your fuckin’ tough guy act, Jenny-boy, and you know it. It’s another reason you fuckin’ listen to me.”

“And here I thought it was because I was secretly madly in love with you,” Jensen deadpans.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Chad snorts, and from the sound of it, half of Chad’s last sip must end up inside his nose. Chad coughs and sputters, pounding against his chest as he leans over the bar. “’Bout fuckin’ time you admitted it.” Chad’s hand thumps awkwardly against his shoulder and Jensen winces, trying to keep the ice cubes inside his glass.

Chad leans close, breath redolent with alcohol. “But don’t think I didn’t see that Jedi-ninja dodge and avoid you just did. Ben Kenobi would be proud of that shit.”

“S’cool though, dude.” Chad shifts his weight away from Jensen and shrugs. “I know you wanna make out and seal our true love and shit--”

“Only if my other choice was castrating myself,” Jensen mutters.

“--but my destiny lies fuckin’ elsewhere.” Chad extends his hand with a gesture of finality. 

“Asshole,” Chad adds, shoving into him.

“Full time,” Jensen agrees, holding up his empty glass in a toast.

Chad laughs and buys them both another drink.

*

Jensen spends the last hour of the reunion watching the strategic goodbyes and hasty retreats, mixed with the longing goodbyes and the occasional ill-advised coupling of people who have nothing except an ancient high school crush and a metric ton of alcohol in common.

In between, he watches Jared make his rounds, say his goodbyes, clapping men on the back and kissing women on the cheek. Jensen puts in his share of handshakes and goodbyes, and just smiles whenever one of them happens to stutter over the words “Mr. Ackles” while glancing sidelong at Jared.

Finally Chad and Misha make it back as the night is winding down, suits rumpled and hair smoothed quickly back into place. Christ. He’s really going to have to find a way to live with this.

“You know you guys didn’t have to wait for me,” Chad grins as they walk up. 

“You _did_ come here with us,” Jensen responds.

“Not like this is fuckin’ kindergarten. Besides, Misha’s giving me a ride to his place.”

It’s strange… how _wrong_ it hits him, Chad leaving with someone else. They all came here together, and Jensen has… well, rules. It’s mildly disconcerting; he’s used to Chad going everywhere with them whenever he’s around. Jensen’s gotten _used_ to it. Christ. When did that happen?

“Hey Jenny-boy,” Chad grins, tweaking Jensen’s boutonniere, “don’t take it so hard. Not like I could be your fuckin’ kept boy forever, right?” 

“Don’t worry, Dad, we won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Misha adds with a huge grin that clearly implies he knows exactly what that means.

“I’m so glad Chad’s cheerfully informed you all about my private life,” Jensen replies, deadpan.

“We’ll try to do you proud,” Misha says with a lewd grin.

That grin makes Jensen want to punch him right between his perfectly aligned teeth. 

“Excuse us, Chad,” Jensen says, reaching out, fingertips barely grazing the shoulder of Misha’s glaringly red zoot suit. Misha takes a couple steps closer and Jensen runs his fingers under Misha’s lapels, straightening them and then raising both hands, patting Misha’s shoulders as he meets his eyes dead on.

“You hurt him,” Jensen enunciates quietly, very carefully and precisely, “and I’ll kill you.”

Misha’s eyes light up and he starts to grin, mouth opening like he’s going to say something. 

Jensen just looks at him. 

He watches as Misha’s mouth snaps shut, grin wilting away.

Misha nods once, eyes slightly glazed, and Jensen nods in return, patting Misha one last time to make sure they understand each other.

“So Jen, you gonna hog my _other_ man, too?” Chad demands, smirking as he wedges himself into the scene. “What the fuck? One’s not enough for you?”

“All yours,” Jensen says, smiling wide like a shark for Misha’s benefit.

Chad smiles and punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Thanks for the night, Jenny.”

“I’ll send you the bill,” Jensen smirks.

Chad rolls his eyes and lifts his hand to high five Jared. “Night Jay.”

Misha and Chad turn away together, falling into step, and Chad leans in towards Misha, asking way too loudly, “The fuck did he say to you, anyway?”

“You mean besides threatening to kill me if I hurt you?” Misha shoots back.

“No shit?” Chad asks, looking at Misha in surprise. 

“That man is a serial killer by night.”

Chad waves a hand at the air. “Nah. He’s just got a Mercutio complex. It’s a whole thing.”

“He, uh, does know what happens to Mercutio, right?”

Jensen purses his lips, bemused.

“So I was thinking,” Chad is saying, their shoulders nudging together as they walk towards the door. “When we get back to your place, there’s this thing I heard about…” Chad’s voice drifts out of earshot, and Jensen is profoundly grateful.

“No way. You bottomed in the classroom, it’s _my_ turn to bottom this time,” Misha responds just loud enough for Jensen to catch.

And that. Just.

“What kind of twisted relationship are they going to _have_?” Jensen asks, staring after them. “They fight about who _bottoms_?”

“Um, Jensen,” Jared says after a moment. “I have a _collar_.”

“I suppose you’re going to give me a lecture about glass houses?” Jensen returns, leveling a cool gaze on Jared.

“Nope. I leave the lectures to you,” Jared smiles, winding his arms around Jensen’s waist. “I was about to give a very persuasive argument outlining the pros of taking me home now with the added benefit of having the limo all to ourselves.”

“That’s an argument that’ll get you an ‘A’, Padalecki,” Jensen whispers, pulling him closer, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at Jared. “So did you have a good time tonight?”

“The best,” Jared smiles, swaying back and forth slightly, happy and full with the evening. “But,” he says, focusing on Jensen. “Great as it was, being here with you again, getting to go home… to _our_ home, with you, is even better.”

“Not quite yet, though,” Jensen says, shaking his head.

“ _You_ … wanna stay?” Jared asks, brows rising high.

The music changes as if on cue, and he sees the understanding hit Jared as the first few notes ring out, face changing from sarcasm to surprise in an instant.

“Jensen.” Jared’s eyes are wide. “Did you…?”

“I might have paid the DJ,” Jensen shrugs lightly, hands settling on Jared’s hips and turning him onto the dance floor. 

“Jensen.” The way Jared breathes his name is beautiful, those hazel eyes staring into him.

In the years before he met Jared, Jensen had never imagined he could feel this way. Had never imagined he would _feel_ at all. Jared’s drop dead sexy, almost in the prime of his life, so amazingly beautiful, and Jensen would be a liar if he tried to pretend he doesn’t love it. But physical beauty fades… and he’s always known that, knows it even more intimately now, on the precipice of forty. And when that’s gone, there’s just this; everything between them. It’s _this_ that Jensen loves most about Jared--beyond that gorgeous body, that blinding smile, that incredibly sharp, smart mind. It’s how he can see everything Jared feels, heart worn on his sleeve, so deep and fucking genuine. 

“Do you know…” he begins, hands moving Jared’s hips closer, chests pressing together. “What I’ve always loved most about you?”

Jared smiles and tips his forehead against Jensen’s. “My good looks? My charming ways? My smart, sexy mind?”

“And I was going to say your modesty,” Jensen smirks, wry.

“You’d never have looked twice at me if I’d had a shred of that,” Jared smirks back.

Jensen’s mouth curls, rueful. “I could never have ignored you, Jared.” Jensen slides his hand up and around, tracing over the sleek feel of silk and muscle, palm pressing against the steady beat of Jared’s heart. “The way you love me...” Jensen pulls Jared in a slow turn, other hand guiding Jared by the small of his back. “That’s what I love most,” he pushes his fingertips against the base of Jared’s spine, mouth gliding over Jared’s. 

“Sap,” Jared breathes, accusing softly as his mouth meets Jensen’s, kissing Jensen with everything he doesn’t say, passionate and intense.

It could be age, Jensen thinks, or it could be that he’s more of a romantic than he’d once believed—or, maybe, it’s the changing laws in the world and how it just makes the most sense in terms of legal rights—but occasionally, like now… he thinks that one day… despite all his protests and principles… he’s probably going to marry Jared. If that’s not a prime example of the general stupidity of love and how it wears away at even the most logical minds, he’s not sure what is.

Even he, it seems, is not exempt. And maybe it _is_ age, but he’s finding that he doesn’t really mind too much.

The last notes of the song die down, the two of them turning slowly, mouths searing hot, so close.

“Come on,” Jensen says, smile curving his lips as he kisses Jared and laces their fingers together. “Let’s go home.”

 

FINIS

  
  



End file.
